OF DESIRE AND DESECRATION
by Chick Feed
Summary: The priest of a troubled church commits suicide after a number of bodies are found, apparent victims of a serial killer. The troubles continue, & his replacement finally calls a number he's been given. Two "private detectives" are sent to investigate &, hopefully, resolve the problems still besetting the church - Easy? So why ain't ev'rybody a hunter? Hurt S&D (as voted for) Angst
1. Chapter 1

Multi chap. Case Fic.  
Spoilers : None

Disclaimer : _Not only do I_ _ **not**_ _own Supernatural, but, if this story turns out rubbish, I'm denying I wrote it, so then I won't own this either!_  
(It's _my_ plan and I'm sticking to it) ;p

 **OF DESIRE AND DESICRATION **

_Summary : The priest of a troubled church commits suicide after a number of bodies are found, apparent victims of a serial killer. When the troubles continue, his replacement decides not to approach the church authorities, instead he calls a number he's been given. Two "private detectives" are sent to investigate and, hopefully, resolve the problems still besetting the church - Easy? So why ain't ev'rybody a Hunter?_ Hurt S&D (as per votes)

 **Prologue  
** -oOo-

It was a dirty evening which was following on from a day that had never properly managed to become light. There had been no break in the thick, bloated, deep grey and purple clouds that rolled by overhead, constantly harangued by a powerful wind that seemed to be blowing from every direction at once. There had been some brief respites from the accompanying rain, but for the most part the heavy downpours had sliced almost horizontally through the air at the insistence of the bullying winds. Waiting within a dimly lit church, the priest had already answered the door twice when he thought was someone knocking at the double doors entrance doors, only to find it had been the wind tormenting him by bouncing the heavy circular brass door knocker against the solid wood.

-o-

For a third time, on again hearing the sound of knocking, the Priest put his whole body weight against one of the church's heavy and ornately carved double entrance doors and battled to push it open against the force of the wind. Two hands grasped the edge of the door from the outside and pulled, adding their strength to the Priest's efforts. Aside from the dismembered hands, the surprisingly tall figure of a man was revealed standing outside hunkered down into his jacket, his shoulders hunched against the teaming rain and the howling winds. His clothing was soaked through and hair so wet it looked black was partially plastered to his scalp, it's longer lengths whipping him persistently across the face, forcing him to look at the world through narrowed eyes. The owner of the helping hands stepped into view, positioning himself with his back leaning against the door. He used his body as a prop to stop the door from being blown closed, challenging the wind in a battle of strength while waving at his taller companion to go inside first. Moving away from the door, he hurried into the church immediately behind the longer haired man, the wind promptly slamming the door closed behind him, the echo of the sound cascading around the main area of worship with it's high, vaulted, ceilings. Pausing after entering inside the church, the taller man shook his head vigorously, spraying droplets of excess rainwater into the air all around him like a halo, and earning him a look of reproach from the slightly shorter man.

"I'm Father Hanrahan. Can I help you two gentlemen?"

The shorter of the two held out his hand to the Priest, who automatically clasped it in his own and the two men shook hands in greeting.

"We're Sam and Dean Winchester. I think you're expecting us? You rang a friend of ours asking for help. I'm Dean an' this' Sam, my brother."

Father Hanrahan turned to shake Sam's hand.

"I'm so pleased to meet you. I really can't thank both of you enough for offering your assistance. Truly, you're the answer to my prayers!"

-oOo-

 **Chapter 1  
** -oOo-

Sat in the cosy room which doubled as both a sitting room and the priest's office, it was easy to forget the wild weather outside. Sam was happily engulfed within a large old leather armchair, the bottom of his jeans up to mid-calf were steaming gently as they began to be dried by the warmth of a log fire. He had removed his boots on entering the room and, to the amusement of his older brother, Sam now sat with his legs crossed at the ankles, unconsciously curling and uncurling his toes in response to the fire's warmth, a reflex action Dean remembered Sam having had since being a baby. One wall of the square room was shelved, the books lining them ranging from the religious to Wilbur Smith. Dark wood panelling covered the remaining three walls, one of which was broken up by a number of old fashioned oil paintings, most with a religious theme. On the wall above the open fireplace there hung a sizeable simple brass crucifix. The forth wall was set with two long, narrow, stone mullioned windows currently hidden behind full length heavy velvet drapes in a deep blue that managed to sit well with the thick carpeting covering the floor, it's traditional patterning picked out in dark reds, blues and greens. As well as the polished wood writing beaureu where a PC sat looking ill at ease with it's surroundings, other pieces of antique furniture served to clutter up the room and add to the effect of the room being ready to embrace and comfort whoever occupied it. Dean had found himself directed towards a small two seat leather sofa, over the back of which hung an oversized, fringed woollen throw in dark green. The lighting in the room was soft and low, provided by old fashioned looking wall lights and a carved wooden stemmed standard lamp wearing a dark green pleated shade direct from the forties. It would be all too easy for Dean to sprawl his legs out and doze off given half a chance.

-o-

"Now, what can I get you? Coffee? Tea? Or maybe you'd like something stronger?"

The taller man, Sam, answered for them both.

"Coffee would be great Father. Would I be right in assumin' you live here, on site?"

"You would indeed. I'm an old fashioned kind of priest. I believe I should always be available to my parishioners, day or night. God is always ready to listen, and therefore I should be too. And what about yourselves? Are _you_ both religious men?"

Dean gave a short laugh.

"Listen. When the King of Hell has your cell phone number, an' one of your friends is a nerdy Angel, whether you're the religious type or not kinda becomes a moot point. Sam an' me, we don't need faith, 'cos we _know_! Word to the wise? Stay away from angels. Most of them are twisted S.O.B.'s. I've met daemons with more good in them!"

For a couple of heartbeats, the priest stared at Dean wide eyed, then he began to chuckle.

"You almost had me there my son; you rattled that whole thing off so straight faced! Something tells me you tend to be more of the joker in the pack? I'll take your reply to mean you're _not_ believers? And that's quite alright. You have my solemn word that I won't be making any attempts to convert either of you. I believe that each of us must be free to come to God in our own time and in our own way. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll get you your drinks. I had my house keeper prepare a snack tray, I hope that it will be sufficient for you? If necessary I will happily cook something. I woin't have you cold, wet _and_ hungry after you've travelled so far to be here... I'll be back in two shakes of a lamb's tail."

-o-

The moment the priest left the room, Sam glared at Dean, lowering his voice to a hissed whisper.

"Dean! What the _Hell_? Twisted S.O.B.'s?"

Dean threw Sam an innocent look.

"What? They _are!_ I was only bein' honest"...Ohh c'mon, don't lose your wig Sammy. The guy thinks I'm jokin'."

Still glaring, Sam huffed impatiently.

Well, just watch what you're sayin'. And don't even _think_ about upsetting the man by tellin' him God's gone AWOL, ok?"

Dean grinned mischievously back at Sam.

"What should I say instead? God's packed his suitcase an' gone on a cruise? Return date unknown?"

"Don't say _anythin_ ', alright? Let the man do his job an' keep his faith He doesn't need to know about _any_ of the crap that's really goin' off upstairs. Agreed?"

Dean dropped a sloppy salute.

"Whatever you say bro'."

-o-

"Here we are gentlemen. Samuel? Would you mind clearing that stuff off the coffee table? Just pop it down anywhere, thanks."

"Please, it's just Sam."

Dean's eyes widened and he smiled broadly when he saw the heavily loaded tray of "snacks" the priest was carrying.

"Wow! Here, let me give you a hand with that...This housekeeper of yours, she married yet?"

Father Hanrahan laughed.

"No. And she's a he, but I'll tell him you enquired. Please, help yourselves. I thought we could talk while we eat? Things won't generally start happening for another couple of hours yet, although there are still some nights when, thank the Lord, it stays uneventful around here right the way through."

The priest settled himself down at one end of a battered looking three seat leather sofa, his plate of food next to him on a side table.

"So, gentlemen. What have you been told about the, um, _issues_ , here at Saint Augustine's?"

-oOo-  
Chick xxx  
 _Any reviews and/or comments/suggestions are always gratefully received._


	2. Chapter 2

**Please Note:** _Words, views and descriptive comment allocated to individual characters form an integral part of this  
_ _work of fiction and, as such, are_ _designed purely to support the premise of the overall story_. _The author intends  
_ _no offence_ _or disrespect_ _to any individuals of faith and_ _would advise_ _ **caution**_ _if choosing to continue reading._ Chick.  
 **Chapter 2  
** -oOo-

Wriggling around in his chair, Sam pulled out a small notepad from the back pocket of his jeans and flipped it open to read from his hand written notes, made when Garth contacted them about the job.

"Ok. From what we've been told, your predecessor had been complaining for some time about noises apparently coming from the bell tower area of the church building. That right?"

The priest nodded.

"That's always been my understanding. At first it was the occasional bump and bang. This' an old church, you expect a certain amount of random noises purely from the structure of the building and, for a long time, Father Ipswich assumed that's what he was hearing, so didn't pay much attention. It wasn't until the sounds altered, became louder, more frequent, almost rhythmic, and Father Ipswich himself was becoming quite ill through lack of sleep that he actually reported it. At first he was told to gather more information. Things like the exact location, whether there was possibly a faulty piece of equipment, could he trace whether it was mechanical or constructional? Had he got a written record of times, duration and types of noises? Had he any evidence to suggest a more "spiritual" cause? What had he already tried to do to resolve the issue? And so on. He had to make the same report quite a few times before the church authorities finally sent in workmen to trace the source and carry out any repairs that might be necessary."

Dean leaned forward a little.

"And that's when they found the bodies? Up in the bell tower?"

-o-

Father Hanrahan crossed himself, shaking his head sadly at the same time.

"Yes. I'm afraid so. Those poor souls! There were six bodies in all, three females and three males. None of the victims were related, though all of them either lived in the area, or had close family within the parish. Of those six, I believe four of the bodies had the appearance of corpses that had been mummified. Whereas the other two were nothing more than skeletons. Of course, the church was closed during the police investigations and while searches were completed. It wasn't actually until some time after the church had re-opened, that the church authorities decided the tower had to come down. The official reason given was that it was felt to be too much of a reminder for the families and friends of those who died up there. In reality, however, the place had become a morbid tourist attraction for the public. Suddenly the church was suddenly always full to capacity at services, but for all the wrong kind of reasons. Poor Father Ipswich's health began to deteriorate further as he tried to deliver sermons above the babble of those sick minded thrill seekers. Day and night he found himself having to handle frequent requests, largely from people turning up in person, to be allowed to view the area the bodies were found...In the end the church was closed to the public again for quite a while after the church authorities ordered the bell tower be demolished."

Sam checked his notes.

"For around six months wasn't it?"

"Yes, that's right."

"And during that time Father Ipswich still lived on site?"

"Yes. The authorities didn't offer him an alternative."

-o-

Dean joined in the conversation having for once, Sam was relieved to see, swallowed his food first.

"Do you know if he complained of ever hearin' any of the noises an' such durin' that period?"

The priest shook his head.

"I don't think he did. I understand Father Ipswich actually began to regain his health, and I've never been made aware that he reported anything untoward to his superiors while the work was being undertaken."

Dean nodded his understanding.

"And before that. When the coroner presented his findings at court? We understand the all the investigations into the cause of death for all the vics were inconclusive?"

"Sadly yes. No one could explain to the bereaved how their loved one's had died. The police held to the theory that they were probably the victims of a serial killer and that he...Or she, was likely to have been living up in the tower unknown to anyone; hence the more recent of the noises...I believe _that_ suggestion played a large part in the return of Father Ipswich's ill health and his subsequent further on-going deterioration. Really, it's hard to conceive what a terrible burden of guilt he must have felt, wondering if he could have been in time to save any of those poor people if he had himself gone up into the bell tower when the disturbances increased."

-o-

Sam looked surprised.

"You're saying he _didn't_?"

"That's right...An individual with some sympathy for his plight told me that Father Ipswich, God bless him, confessed honestly and openly during the investigation that he had always been too afraid to venture up there you see. And, as you will know, three months after the court hearing, Father Ipswich died by his own hand. An act that is judged to be a sin against God and the church...It's a tragic thing. He made a lifetime's commitment to doing God's work but still, after his death, myself and two more of his colleagues were adamantly refused when we petitioned to be allowed to bury his body in consecrated ground."

Dean scowled.

"Sonovabitch! That _really_ sucks! The poor sap's left feelin' so guilty about the deaths, he ends up toppin' himself, an' these church men couldn't bring themselves to forgive him? One of their own?"

Father Hanrahan sighed.

-o-

"You have to understand, taking the life given to him by God is felt to be a grave sin. Many in the church still hold it as unforgivable, irrespective of the reasons behind it. Individuals are expected to carry on, put their faith in God, however bad things get... It wasn't just Father Ipswich who blamed himself for those six deaths. There were members of the church who _also_ held him responsible, muttering about how his cowardice allowed innocent people to die. I would be surprised if Father Ipswich was ignorant of their view. And it quickly spread that his refusal to go into the tower was due to his fear of finding the Devil or one of his minions up there. Father Ipswich, because of his reluctance to go alone to confront the devil was labelled weak, both physically and in faith, a failure even _before_ his suicide. Sadly, at the time when he needed their support the most, Father Ipswich quickly discovered himself with very few friends or sympathy left amongst his peers and within the church hierarchy."

-o-

Dean stared in Father Hanrahan's direction, appalled at what he was hearing.

"Seems to me that those Holyer than thou _asshats_ are probably one of the reasons why Father Ipswich topped himself! I gotta wonder how any of 'em manage to sleep at night while they're hidin' under the bedclothes in their baby doll cassocks!"

Sam stared in bug eyed horror at his brother.

" _Dean!_ "

"What? You know I'm right. How's it go? _Let him without sin_? Know what? I'd love to see any _one_ of those douches stand up to Lucy on their own...An' what kinda _dumbass_ thinks Lucy loves hangin' out in bell towers _anyway_?"

Sam's eyes flashed a warning.

" _Enough_ Dean! That's enough!"

-o-

Embarrassed, Sam turned back to the priest who had watched the exchange with interest.

"I'm _so_ sorry! Please forgive my brother? Unfortunately for everyone, his mouth didn't come supplied with an off switch."

Father Hanrahan held up one hand.

"Please! There's no need for any apology! Dean merely expressed a little more vividly what some of us ourselves were left feeling."

Dean threw Sam an I told you so look, turning back to find the priest looking at him in amusement.

"I admit though, Dean, I _am_ a little intrigued...Lucy? _Never_ have I envisaged Lucifer as a _Lucy_ before, but _you've_ now given me Lucy who hangs around in bell towers! Wonderful!"

Sam coughed politely, keen to re-direct the conversation.

"So, um, you came here around two months after Father Ipswich's death?"

Father Hanrahan nodded yes.

"That's right. Almost five months ago now."

"And the noises? We understand they're back?"

-o-

The priest's expression became serious again.

"Yes. Obviously there's no bell tower anymore, but once again it seems that's the area where the sounds emanate from...There's been additional things happened too. I'm not sure they're linked in any way, but I was advised that I should mention everything?"

Sam began patting pockets, frowning, until a stubby pencil flew through the air towards him from Dean. Father Hanrahan was rapidly developing a clearer sense of how different, and yet how close the brothers were to one another as he observed the interplay and the unspoken communication between the pair.

"Thanks...Go ahead Father. What kinds of additional things?"

-o-

"Well, there's been damage done to some of the older headstones in the graveyard at the back of the church. The windows in this room look out over it. Of course, that could be purely vandalism. During the church's closure, a local gang moved into the graveyard, claiming it was their territory. They didn't take kindly to the idea of moving out again and the church had to pay a private security firm to persuade them to leave. It wouldn't surprise me if the damage is their way of exacting revenge. Then there's the more vague occurrences. Such as a strong sense of being watched when out in the church grounds. Both myself and my housekeeper have felt it on and off. Inside the church I have gone in three times now to find the candles have been taken out of their holders and been placed neatly in small groups on the pews. Traditional though I am, sadly I do have to keep the church doors locked at night against potential theft. They were only unlocked tonight as I was expecting your good selves. It is, however, just possible I might have forgotten to lock them the night before finding the candles moved. And then there is the statue of the Blessed Virgin which is, I admit, the thing I've found to be the most distressing."

-o-

The priest paused briefly and Dean took the opportunity to step in, his question designed purely to bait Sam.

"Sorry...Are you sayin' there's something _happened_ to it that's distressin'? Or d'you mean it's a distressin' kinda statue?"

Dean pretended not to notice the _Seriously?_ expression flashed his way by his younger brother, and mentally chalked up a _win_ for himself. Father Hanrahan looked at Dean briefly in bewilderment before his eyes widened in comprehension.

" _Oh_! I see what you mean! Perhaps I should have clarified. No, it's what has been _happening_ to the statue that I've been distressed by. First, allow me to explain? The statue is antique and an original. It has been magnificently carved by someone who was clearly a gifted artist from a single piece of pure white marble. She stands almost four feet high and is displayed standing on the top of an eight foot tall, hand carved wooden pedestal, especially commissioned for the task and she is positioned alongside the lectern from which I deliver my sermons to the faithful. I mention this to help you understand that the figure is not easily accessible. Ever since she was gifted to this church on completion of it being built, she has been the heart and the pride of St Augustine's. Her finely carved features, the graceful flow and ripples in her gown and the perfection of her hands, the finger tips of each hand delicately touched together in an aspect of prayer are exquisitely executed. I'm sure that, when you see her for yourselves you will agree, this celebration of our Gracious Lady is truly breathtaking. People, including non church goers, frequently visit St Augustine's simply to admire the skill of the artist. It has almost broken my heart to see the wanton and repeated desecration of something so beautiful."

-o-

Obviously saddened, the priest closed his eyes, gathering himself before continuing.

"On more than one occasion the word _whore_ has been written in red across her face or...Further down...Erm...In line with a certain part of the female anatomy?...At other times the word _bitch_ has been written over the full length of her robes. I have walked in to find her coated in mud, either front or back, countless times. Eventually I purchased and installed one of those small night vision cameras, however there's been nothing recorded by it...Obviously you are welcome to view the tapes for yourselves...More recently, and even more abhorrently, I have gone into the church early in the morning and found...Well...I found she had been smeared all over in excrement."

Dean's eyebrows raised.

"You mean _sh..._

Father Hanrahan jumped in to confirm before Dean could finish his sentence.

-oOo-  
Chick xxx  
With love.


	3. Chapter 3

_Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, or favourited, or is following, or is reading this fic.  
_ _I promise I_ will _be responding to all reviews soon as I get chance :D  
_ Chapter 3  
-oOo-

The priest gazed from Dean to Sam.

"I'll admit, I want to see these despicable... _Hooligans_ , brought to justice. I have no wish to cause any more concern to the church authorities unless absolutely necessary. There has already been too much tragedy, too many unexplained events and far too much loss associated with St Augustine's. I fear there is the very real risk that the church may be closed down permanently if things continue. It is my loyal housekeeper who provided me with the number for an individual named Garth and suggested I contact him for help in this matter. And now here you are! This Garth recommended you very highly. He told me you are both Private Detectives and that you have had quite a bit of experience with similar types of issues to these previously?"

Sam nodded.

"That's right. And from what you've told us, I'm confident we'll be able to wrap this up fairly quickly. You agree Dean?"

"Mmmmpp!"

Dean mumble his agreement through a huge bite of chicken leg.

"I sincerely pray that you do...Now then. Your accommodation for the time that you are here. I'm afraid these lodgings only have the one guest room, however there are two single beds. I hope it isn't too awkward, having to share a room?"

-o-

After they had eaten, the priest showed the brothers around the rest of the lodgings before then escorting them to the guest room and leaving them to settle in.

"While you're here, I want you to treat this place as your home. My refrigerator is your refrigerator as it were. If you need me at all this evening, I'll be in the sitting room writing tomorrow's sermon, for which your willingness to help has been my inspiration. I intend re-visiting the tale of the Good Samaritan. Please don't let that put you off re-joining me in the sitting room though. Also, if you wish to, feel free to take a look around the church proper. Although, Sam, I would advise wearing your shoes. The stone flagged flooring gets chilly underfoot at night. Oh goodness, I almost forgot! Here you are, spare keys for the church and lodgings."

-o-

Once they were alone, Sam shared his thoughts with his brother whilst they unpacked.

"This' sounding to me like we've got ourselves a salt an' burn, what d'you think?"

"Yep, me too, but I think we're on the clock with this one Sam."

"Before it hits the point of starting to kill again? Right...So, take a look around the church first, check the tapes then divide up on the research?"

"Pretty much. I'm thinkin' we could split the research three ways, give part of it to Father Hanrahan to save us some time. If he doesn't know it already, I'd say he's a natural for lookin' at the history of the place and whether any other of his predecessors ever reported unusual noises an' stuff. If he can pin point roughly when this actually first started, it'll help one of _us_ narrow down on I. who we're lookin' to fry. There's a good chance that whoever this is, they're occupyin' the church graveyard, an' that makes things nice an' convenient for us.

"Do you think we should bring him fully on board?"

"Not sure. How about you?"

"I'd say no. Not unless there's no other option."

"Agreed...Bags lookin' for other links between the vics."

"No problem. That just leaves linkin' the m.o. to the fugly, an' seein' as we're both thinkin' salt n' burn, I guess I _might_ stretch my part of the research out to a whole hour."

Sam turned to unpacking his toiletries, leaving Dean staring at his profile.

"Sammy? I changed my mind, I'm _un-_ bagsin' the vic links."

"Sorry, don't work that way. Once all the options are gone, so's the chance to un-bags what you bags'd. Serves you right for bein' such a dick downstairs! I'm hittin' the shower an' changing into dry clothes. I'll make it quick, so don't go wandering off round the church without me... _Dean_? You get that?"

"Yeah, yeah. Don't go to church without my baby sitter. Got it!"

-o-

Dean busied himself searching their bags for a torch each and pausing to look longingly at the Glock, deciding against taking it in the end, guessing that Father Hanrahan might object to the discharging of firearms in his church. Instead he pocketed the remains of a bag of salt which contained enough to form a protective circle if needed, possibly still leaving a small amount left over. He added to it a small knife made of silver. Remembering their flasks were empty of Holy Water, he tucked one into the back pocket of his denims intending to fill it once inside the church. Finally, in lieu of salt rounds, Dean chose another dagger, this one fitted with a slender iron blade.

"You about done in there Sam?"

"Gimme a couple of secs to get dressed, then I'm good to go."

-o-

Dean wandered over to the window of their temporary accommodation, which was hidden behind an over-long, heavy pair of red and gold tapestry style curtains. Leaving the curtains closed, he slid between them, finding himself faced with a narrow stone mullioned window that went from the ceiling stopping short at a built-in window seat. The view outside was of the graveyard. Dean cast his eyes over the scene.

"Hey, _Sammy_? We're up! Get your ass outta there _now._ Time to go to work already!"

Sam hurried out of the bathroom zipping up his jeans at the same time as Dean reappeared through the curtains. Sam glared suspiciously at his older brother.

"Are you winding me up?"

Dean grinned happily.

"Nope. Just seen some movement in the graveyard. Couldn't make out what it was, but..."

A series of loud bangs like a hammer hitting a nail interrupted Dean and he gave Sam a "told you so" look. Sam nodded.

"Okay, let me get my trainers on."

-o-

Curious, Dean headed back to the window and peered down into the graveyard. He suddenly stumbled backwards with a grunt of surprise, his feet tangling in the long lengths of curtain fabric and sending him crash landing on his butt when an elongated pale face set with wide, staring, dark eyes and surrounded by a tangle of wild black hair, it's mouth a gaping; appeared at the other side of the window glass, filling Dean's vision. Dean was almost sure he also had a fleeting glimpse of two small horns, jutting out from either side of it's forehead. It only took a second for the image to appear, startle Dean, and then blink out of existence again. Sam was there almost immediately as, half way between sitting and lying on the floor, Dean batted at the over-sized curtaining that was now covering his head and wrapped around and over his shoulders.

" _Dammit_! _Lemmego,_ _lemmeout!_ "

-o-

"Dean? Calm down, stop beatin' up the curtains, I got you!""

Sam hooked his arms under his brother's and hauled him back to his feet.

"What happened?"

"Spirit thing...At the window. Wasn't expectin' to be nose to nose with anythin' that's all. Have to assume it, _she_ , knows we're here then I guess. I'll meet you downstairs, I'm goin' to let our host know we're startin' work. Ok?"

Sam hopped on one leg a couple of times while attempting to tug his second trainer on.

"Go, I'll be right behind you.

"Oh! Somethin' to think about...Have we ever seen a spirit with horns?"

-o-

Father Hanrahan looked up from composing his sermon and smiled at Dean.

"Is your room alright?"

"Yeah, thanks. Um...Listen. I'm just gonna say this straight out, an' then you can smile an' decide I'm crazy, alright?...Ok...We...Sam an' me...We think you might've got some kinda restless sprit hangin' around the place."

Father Hanrahan put down his pen and turned his whole body towards Dean, looking up at him in curiosity.

"Really? And what makes you think that my friend?"

"The stuff you've told us. Well...That an' the fact that I've had a close encounter with her."

The Father's eyes opened wide at Dean's answer.

" _Her_?...Where?"

Sam had wandered into the room in time to hear the latter part of his brother's statement and it was he who answered Father Hanrahan.

"We hadn't intended to mention it, _had_ we Dean? But she popped up just now outside the window to say hi to my brother. We're goin' outside to take a look around the graveyard. It'd be helpful if you stayed in here till we get back."

"Of course...Whatever you think is best."

-o-

The rain had eased up but the ground underfoot in the large walled graveyard was slippery and slick with mud. The brothers moved in silence, Sam letting Dean take the lead and guide them in the direction he said he had seen movement. Eventually, Dean came to a stand still and visually began to scan the area. Coming to a stop alongside his brother, Sam spoke in a soft whisper.

"This the spot?"

Dean nodded, still looking around, peering into the darkness. Suddenly he bent at the waist, ducking low, one hand grabbing Sam's shoulder and forcing him down too as a large white shape skimmed through the air and straight towards them. They both felt the air movement as the thing passed low over their heads with a high pitched whistle. Dean straightened up, his head turning as his gaze tracked the thing until it was swallowed up by the darkness.

-o-

"Damn! Did you catch the _size_ of that freakin' thing?"

Standing up straight Sam shook his head and hissed irritably at Dean.

"No. I was too busy tryin' to keep my feet after some jerk nearly hauled me over! Try sayin' _duck_ next time?"

Dean flashed a grin at his brother.

"Wasn't a duck, was an owl."

Sam restrained himself from thumping Dean only because he didn't want Dean to slip and end up going full length. Instead, it was Dean who nudged Sam in his side and pointed to something ahead and off to their left. Jutting up against the dark clouds hanging in the night sky, Sam could just make out the black shapes of what looked like the ruined remnants of a once sizable structure of some kind. Dean was already heading in their direction. Sam sighed, and loyally trailed after his brother.

-o-

Drawing closer to his goal, Dean was able to identify the remains of a tall stone arch which, at some point, had collapsed at the central peak of the arch, meaning neither side of the structure was linked to the other anymore. Dean thought he could see something else, something out of place, lower down and apparently in front of the old archway. Closing one eye, he focused through the narrowed slit of the other. Opening both eyes again, he beckoned Sam to his side, still keeping his voice to a soft whisper when he spoke.

"I can see a glow of light, not very strong. Maybe candlelight? I'm gonna move further forward, stay a couple a' yards behind me an' out of sight. Usual set up, let whatever or whoever think I'm alone."

-o-

It was a common enough strategy, one they had used innumerable times before, with the second man staying hidden throughout, only getting involved if things went pear shaped. Sam had to concede that Dean was best being the front man on this occasion, him having already had sight of their target, and visa-versa. Keeping low, using gravestones, shrubs and trees as cover, the two Hunters carefully and quietly started closing in on the ruin.

-o-

Standing with his back pressed up against the wet trunk of a tree which stood between himself and the patch of light in front of the ruined archway, Dean gave himself a countdown before moving only his head, peering around the trunk just enough to be able to catch sight of the thing they were Hunting. Dean's eyes grew wide, pupils instantly dilating and his pulse quickening at what he saw.

-oOo-  
Chick xxx  
Wiv luv


	4. Chapter 4

_Once again, my thanks. I still end up stunned and excited when I know there are people reading something I'm writing,  
_ _( & then I still panic about trying to make it good enough). After fanficing for this long, I figure I'm always going to feel this way ;)  
_ **Chapter 4  
** -oOo-

The slender, delicate woman staring up at the night sky, was sat with her knees drawn up on top of a large stone sarcophagus. In Dean's eyes she was beautiful beyond belief, very nearly taking his breath away. By the light of the single candle set onto the sarcophagus just in front of where she sat, Dean could just make out gleaming jet black hair hanging loose from under a black lace cowl which covered her head and then draped gracefully around her neck. Perfectly arched black eyebrows framed eyes too far away to identify their colour. Her face was elfin and fine boned, with lips. _Definitely lips!_ Her skin was the colour of fresh cream. She was clothed in a long, flowing, ethereal dress in a delicate shade of blue grey. Made from layers of fine fabric, it hung in soft folds around her body and draped down over the sarcophagus, contrasting nicely with the hard stone. Her most startling feature though, were the large wings which came from her back and rose above her head even folded as they were at that moment. Looking like soft leather, they faded from black to grey and were veined here and there in pale blue. Dean's mouth had gone dry, he tried to swallow. Then tried and failed to hold back the resulting muffled cough. Attentive now, the woman eyes, their irises briefly flashing silver, instantly sought him out

-o-

Realising he had been seen, Dean broke cover, intent on leading the creature away from where Sam was still hidden. The thing's mouth opened, and she let out a wild glass shattering screech as her wings swiftly unfurled and she rose above the sarcophagus, the wind from the beat of the wings blowing the candle out and sending it rolling and dropping to the ground. In mid-air, her dress fluttering and undulating around her, she twisted her body and flew at unbelievable speed directly at Dean, her screech turning to a howl. The change from the creature sat quietly staring upward to one of fury in flight baring down on Dean, happened so fast that, even running, Dean only made it four or five yards from the tree before a solid blow caught him across the face, it's power and strength being enough to lift him off his feet and send him flying helplessly backwards. His journey was abruptly cut short when his back thudded into a granite headstone in the shape of a cross and blackened with age. Dean was very briefly aware of the air being driven out of his lungs when he hit, then nothing.

-o-

Dean gasped his way back to consciousness in response to the excruciating stinging sensation down one side of his face. His body thrashed around, instinctively trying to get away from the pain. Strong hands grabbed hold of him, restraining him and holding him in place.

" _Gerroff me_! _Gerroff 'fore I punch yer light's out!"_ "

" _Dean_. Calm down! Stop fighting!"

-o-

Recognising the voice of his brother, Dean obediently stopped trying to escape and lash out, instead lying still and breathing heavily, with his brother's hands still keeping a firm hold on him. Opening his eyes, Dean saw Sam's worried face hovering directly above him.

"That's better...You're ok bro'. You're ok...Ok?"

Dean nodded, still panting at the shock of his awakening and his battle to escape the burning pain which now presented itself as a dull, throbbing sensation.

"I'll let go of you Dean; but _you're_ going to let Father Hanrahan finish cleaning and dealin' with the injuries to your face. Agreed?"

Dean nodded again, his breathing beginning to slow back down towards a normal rate.

"Alright then, good."

-o-

Sam let go of his brother and stepped back, the wary face of the priest taking his place.

"I'm truly sorry young man, but I do need to flush out these scratches one more time. You just let me know when you're ready."

Dean cleared his throat, feeling more in control of himself now he understood what was happing.

"S'ok. Juss go ahead. I'll be fiiiii **iiiiIIIIINNNNE!** "

-o-

Sat upright on the sofa next to Sam, who was there ready to leap into emergency fuss mode if necessary, in the priest's comfortable sitting room, Dean waggled and stretched his jaw, happy to find nothing felt broken. His cheek however, where the creature had left four horizontal slashes from her nails or claws, felt like it had swollen to at least three times it's normal size; although Sam had assured him it was only twice the usual size. His head was pounding and he could already feel the forerunner to the next day's aches and stiffness. Father Hanrahan came back into the room from the kitchen carrying a glass of water and a couple of white pills in the palm of his other hand.

"Here you are my boy, take these, they should get rid of that headache for you. I suggest soaking in a hot bath might be helpful in easing your back."

Dean thanked the priest and dry swallowed the drugs while the priest sat himself down in the armchair and stared thoughtfully in silence at both Sam and Dean for a moment.

-o-

"Well...I must say, I _certainly_ didn't expect anything like _this_ to occur tonight! Obviously, I'll fully understand if you wish to terminate any involvement in our situation. I don't want you or anyone else getting hurt in any way. I can only offer you my sincere apologies for bringing you both to St Augustine's."

Dean looked at the priest seriously.

"Father, we're not about to terminate anything...Least not involvement wise. Bumps an' scratches are an occupational hazard. You've got yourself a high risk situation here. If we don't deal with it, then we can guarantee more people _are_ going to get hurt, and some might end up dead, like last time, so ma an' Sam aren't goin' anywhere till this job's done. One question though...How long've you thought this was the work of a ghost or spirit? Whatever you prefer to call it."

-o-

Sam stared at the priest in surprise.

"Is Dean right? Have you been thinking this' something supernatural all along?"

Father Hanrahan gazed at Dean when he answered.

"No. I came to that conclusion a week ago. When I began hearing the sound of a non existent bell ringing in a non existent bell tower during the night. Something not of this world seemed like the only possible explanation...How did you know?"

Dean shrugged, and winced at the movement.

"When you were more shocked to hear it was _female_ than you were at bein' told your problem was a spirit."

The priest nodded.

"I see...My turn then...How does being Private Detectives equate with your apparent familiarity with the supernatural?"

Dean turned to Sam.

"This one's yours dude. I've already got a headache."

Sam considered the priest while he decided where to start.

"Alright. Have you ever heard any of your colleagues talking about Hunters? I mean _real_ ones; not the _Duh, me have_ _fun shoot_ _animal wot dunt shoot me back_ kind of trash."

-o-

There was a period when all Father Hanrahan did was sit in silence, staring at the floor, both hands resting on his lap while he tried to process everything Sam had revealed to him. He couldn't decide whether he had a greater feeling of admiration for the brothers, or pity about the things their lives denied them. Sam had left out any and all mentions of angels, Gods or Lucifer, Heaven, Hell or Purgatory, deciding it was better that way for Father Hanrahan and his chosen vocation. At some time during the conversation between Sam and the priest, Dean had fallen asleep, at one point his upper body drooping so far forward he had been in serious danger of tipping off the sofa. Sam made a grab for his brother and pulled Dean into his side, draping one arm over his still sleeping sibling as Dean happily settled his head into Sam's ribs. Sam gave the priest an apologetic look, receiving a warm smile in return and a brief shake of the head that said not to disturb the sleeping Hunter. Instead both men lowered their voices as Sam answered Father Hanrahan's questions as best he could when the conversation turned to how the brothers hoped to resolve the current unwanted supernatural activity at the church.

-o-

The following morning, Sam's alarm call was the groans and grunts coming from his brother, as Dean forced his stiff and aching body to get out of bed. Sam raised his head off his pillow, watching the slow, careful way his brother was moving.

"You ok over there?"

Dean answered while setting off on his slow journey towards the bathroom.

"Sure. I'm _great_...For a ninety eight year old man anyway."

Sam grinned and rolled onto his back, putting his hands behind his head.

"Well, you know you only have to ask if you find you need a hand in there."

"Yup. I'll be sure an' do that Sammy...Soon as Hell freezes over."

-o-

Closing the bathroom door behind him, the first thing Dean did was head to the small hand basin and stare at himself in the mirror hanging above it. Carefully peeling off the tape, he removed the dressing pad attached to one side of his face and inspected the four cuts running across his cheek. It was hard to tell whether there were any signs of infection against the deep purple hues of the bruising covering most of that side of his face and, although his cheek was still clearly swollen, he no longer looked like a chipmunk storing enough food to last the whole of winter into one cheek. He thought back to the previous night's encounter. He couldn't remember ever bumping into a spirit that hit as hard as the creature he had encountered in the graveyard. Neither could he recall ever meeting a _spirit_ sporting huge dark wings before, although, he didn't recall seeing any horns There was no getting away from it, the amount of research needing to be done had increased. He and Sam couldn't gank this thing until they actually knew what it was. At the thought of killing the creature, Dean's memory conjured up the image of her sitting on top of the sarcophagus, and of how the soft glow of the candles light had served to highlight how beautiful she was. Feeling something stir, Dean looked down at himself, then reached across to turn the shower on. Intentionally setting the water temperature to "Cold".

-o-

Leaving Sam to finish dressing, Dean wandered out of their shared room and headed off in what he hoped was the direction of the kitchen. Arriving at his destination, Dean hesitated on the threshold, seeing the back view of an unknown male standing at a double oven, expertly flipping a pancake whilst overseeing a pan of sizzling bacon and whatever was in a further two pans sat on the cooker top. Dean glanced at the well scrubbed farmhouse style pine table in the centre of the kitchen, seeing it was set for three. Not wanting to startle the man who he assumed to be the housekeeper, Dean coughed politely from the doorway. The blond haired man glanced back over his shoulder and back to the oven. Setting the pancake pan aside, he turned around fully and, unashamedly, let his eyes roam over Dean from top to toe, one eyebrow raising as, to Dean's embarrassment, he gave the Hunter the clear once over before dark brown eyes came to rest again on Dean's face and he smiled.

-o-

"Hello there. You'll be Dean then I assume, looking at your poor face? I'm Daniel, head cook and bottle washer around here. Don't you just stand there, you poor thing, come and sit down. How're you feeling today? Honestly! Now I've seen you... _Oops_...I meant your battle scars obviously, not just you, as in _You_. Anyway, I can't believe the bitch aimed for your face! How could _anyone_ set out to harm something so lovely? I for one don't care if she _is_ a dead ghosty! If _I_ ever see her she just better watch out I don't _Ghost Buster_ her skanky see through butt for what she's done to you my lambkin! You know, I'm almost _certain_ the Father said you were the, um, how shall I out it? _Oh_ , yeah... _Chattier_ one. Or have I remembered it wrong? Oh, feathers! _Please,_ don't tell me your brother's mute and that's how you got to be tagged the chattier one? I'd simply _die_!"

Slightly stunned at the verbal bombardment, still standing in the doorway, Dean's only response was a mumbled _Not a ghost_.

Daniel moved towards Dean and threw an arm around his shoulders before guiding him over to the table and pulling the chair out for him.

"Come and sit down honey. What did you say? She's _not_ a ghost? But, Father Hanrahan said she _was_? God! _Tell_ me he's not dementing? He can be forgetful enough as it is! So what _is_ this ugly cow then? Aside from being some made of mist skeezoid _bitch_ I mean."

-oOo-  
Chick  
Wiv wuv


	5. Chapter 5

_I'm further ahead in this fic than you guys, and I've just reached a point where all I can really say is, oh dear!_ _;p  
_ **Chapter 5  
** -oOo-

Dean was saved from bearing the brunt of this verbal cyclone by the arrival of Sam.

"We don't really know the answer to that yet. Hi, I'm Sam."

Daniel twisted his head around to see the newcomer, and both eyes opened wide.

"Oh, yes. You _are_. Aren't you? Come on in _gorgeous_. Sit your divinely tall self down while I get you both a coffee. I'm sooo over-the-moon for you Sam! You know, now you're not mute and everything anymore? It's totally brilliant! _Honestly_ , I'm absolutely made up about it."

Daniel headed to the coffee pot, cheerily whistling "Oh Happy Days" while, completely bewildered, Sam tuned to Dean, seeing in his brother's eyes the response _How would_ I _know?_

-o-

The chirpy housekeeper was in the middle of plating up when Father Hanrahan entered the kitchen, looking unhappy as he walked past Daniel and plonked himself despondently down at the dining table.

"Daniel? Coffee please."

"Coming right up."

"Did you sleep alright gentlemen? How are you feeling this morning Dean? The swelling looks to have gone down a little."

Dean nodded, his eyes on the plate of hot food that had just landed in front of him.

"Yeah. Um, sorry about fallin' asleep in front of you like that. Whatever you gave me kept me sleeping all night. I've got some aches and pains this morning is all. Nothin' I can't handle."

Delivering the priest's coffee and breakfast, Daniel gazed admiringly at Dean.

"Hear that? Spoken like a true hero!"

-o-

Seeing the flush appear on Dean's face, Sam kept his eyes down, hiding his grin. Father Hanrahan admonished his housekeeper.

"Enough Daniel! I'm afraid we have a serious problem on our hands."

His gaze when he looked again at Sam and Dean was apologetic.

"I've been into the church to prepare for this morning's service. There's a message, it's been daubed on the floor in front of the alter. I'm really sorry, but I think it _might_ be intended for your good selves. It reads _You not welcome. Go._ "

-o-

While Father Hanrahan led Sam back to the ruins from the previous night, Dean headed into the church, followed by Daniel at his own insistence. The EMF monitor stayed silent in his hand as Dean looked down at the message scrawled on the church floor. The letters were uneven, a mixture of lower and upper case, making the writing look almost childish. Next to him stood Daniel, ready with a mop and bucket of soapy water.

"I suppose I should be grateful really. At least it's only mud, and anyway, she's _wrong_. _I_ say you're _very_ welcome, never mind what _she_ thinks! _She_ doesn't get a vote around here."

Dean couldn't help but smile at the man's indignant tone.

"Well, I s'ppose at least we've got her attention...Ok, go ahead, you can get rid of it."

"With pleasure. This won't take a mo', then I'll log you onto the Father's cranky old PC and you can entertain yourself running through the camera's recordings. I hope the old man keeps an eye on the time while he's out with that delicious brother of yours, his service starts in half an hour. Oh! You're delicious too, _obviously_! Speaking of, at the risk of breaking my poor heart, tell me handsome, I'm dieing to know. Do you both have lady friends? Or is there one of you that's still up for grabs?"

"I...Uh...We...er...

Daniel held up a hand and turned his head away theatrically, his nose in the air.

" _Stop_! No! Don't tell me. _Please._ Don't ruin the dream!"

Laughing with delight at Dean's stuttering uncertainty, Daniel winked at him and began mopping the floor, still smiling broadly while Dean stood, uncertain. The greater part of him believed that Daniel simply loved to tease and was good naturedly messing him around, but, there was still tiny edge of _Is he serious?_ that left Dean floundering. Daniel, more than familiar with the effect he could have on people, was thoroughly enjoying himself. Without looking at his latest victim, in a sing-song voice he called out "I can feel you _watching_ me, cupcake!"

At last Dean found his voice and headed to the font to fill his and Sam's Holy water flasks, throwing back over his shoulder " _You_ wish!"

-o-

"Watch your step young man, there's loose slates and stone hidden under the moss and grass around this area. These ruins are what are left of the original church. Our current one was built after this one was destroyed by fire. A lot of the stone was salvaged and re-used to construct the "new" St Augustine's in 1865. The original church was called St Swithun's. The name was changed to St Augustine's when it was rebuilt, after St Augustine's Cathedral in Florida.

"So the current church hit a hundred and fifty years old last year?"

Coming to a halt in front of the stone sarcophagus, the priest chuckled.

"Why yes! It would have. Pretty old to still be calling it the _new_ church really, isn't it? Here you are then, this is where your brother had his, um, _encounter_ last night. I apologise again for not being able to stay with you Sam."

Sam's eyes were already scanning the ground around the sarcophagus.

"No need. Honestly, I'll be fine. Good luck with your sermon."

-o-

Forty five minutes in and Dean hadn't seen anything untoward on the previous night's recording other than at 3.52 am, writing could suddenly be seen appearing on what had, until then, been a clean floor. He had tried reversing, slow motion, speeding up, clicking through a single frame at a time; still nothing, except the return of his headache and an increase in the stiffness and aching in his back. Getting slowly to his feet, he tried stretching his back a few times before heading back to the room he was sharing with Sam in search of pain killers that wouldn't knock him for six. Turning onto the short corridor leading to their room, he was in time to see Daniel disappear inside.

-o-

Stepping back out of sight, Dean paused and waited, giving Daniel enough time to get nosy before he silently moved towards the room. Daniel had left the guestroom door partially open. Dean couldn't see the housekeeper as he peered through the gap, but he could hear him singing something about it raining men. Pushing the door open, Dean casually walked into the room. A swift glance told him both beds had been neatly re-made but there were no signs of anything else being out of place or having been moved. Daniel came out of the bathroom, used towels draped over one arm and a wicker basket full of household cleaning products hung over the other. Seeing Dean was in the room didn't faze him at all, a fact which instantly relaxed Dean. This wasn't the type of guy who went poking around where he shouldn't.

"Hi Honey. I've just given the bathroom a quick once over and there's fresh towels for you both. I wasn't sure what else you might or might not want me to do in this room, so I stuck with simply making the beds. Hope that's ok? Anything else, you just let me know."

Daniel glanced at the beds before looking at Dean again, grinning and giving him a mischievous wink.

"Of course, I'd be delighted to help get the bedclothes all rumpled up again; you just say the word sweet lips."

Dean grinned back.

"Sorry. Not really a morning person."

Daniel laughed and headed towards the door, throwing back his response as he exited the room.

"I'll have to speak to the Father then won't I, see if he wants me to stay on and work late one evening!...I'll be in the laundry room if you need me. Just help yourself to coffee and snacks. Lunch will be around twelve thirty. Bye"

Dean shook his head good naturedly, it was clear Daniel was a born torment who liked to have the last word. Grabbing a couple of pain killers, he looked at his watch. Sam had been out alone in the graveyard for an hour. He decided to give his brother until Father Hanrahan's morning service finished in around another thirty minutes, then he was going out to find him.

-o-

Dean diverted to the kitchen intending to grab a coffee before settling down in front of the PC again. He poured his drink just as the back door leading out through a well maintained vegetable and flower garden to the graveyard was flung open, and Sam stumbled inside. Seeing his brother, he headed straight for Dean and snatched the hot drink out of the startled older hunter's hand. Clasping the mug between both his hands, Sam shakily lifted it to his lips and drank.

-o-

Dean did a swift visual scan of Sammy's appearance. He was shuddering from head to foot, his hands and fingers coloured red tinged with purple, his cheeks. nose and the tip of the one ear Dean could see, were scarlet. His eyes were red rimmed and bloodshot, his teeth clattered against the pot mug, the trembling in his hands strong enough to slosh the coffee around like a stormy sea, and he appeared to have trouble moving his lips. Cold then. Very, very cold. Much colder than the outside temperature merited. Dean took control.

"Sit down here, let me get your boots off."

-o-

Sam tried to speak as he complied with his brother's instruction.

"C..C..Carn f..f..feel."

Dean glanced up from untying Sam's laces.

"Can't feel what?"

"T..T..T..T..T.."

"I'm hopin' that's T for toes?"

Sam managed a nod between shivering.

"Good! 'Cos I ain't rubbin' your testi _Ouch_!"

Grinning at the weak kick Sam gave him, Dean pulled off his icy cold brother's boot.

"Don't worry Sammy. Soon as you start warmin' up you'll _definitely_ start to feel 'em, an' your ears, an' hands an' fingers. Then you'll wish you couldn't...Ok, come on, living room, lets get you toasty. Are you hurt anywhere?"

"N..n..oh. Juss frozen."

-o-

Dean's anxiety lowered a couple of notches knowing there were no wounds to worry about and he guided his brother into the living room, leading him to the sofa furthest away from the fire, knowing that warming Sam up again too rapidly wouldn't help. Dean sat on the arm of the sofa and pulled Sam's upper body into his side, his arm around his younger brother's shoulders, rubbing and massaging wherever he could reach. Sam drew a long, hissing breath as his fingertips warmed up to the sharp, painful, burning stage that would gradually turn to pins and needles. When the pain reached Sam's toes, Dean knelt on the floor and rubbed the circulation back into them while Sam cringed at the sensation and pursed his lips, breathing entirely through his nose as he battled the desire to snatch his feet away from his brother's ministrations. Daniel wandered into the room, his eyes quickly taking in the situation. Sitting himself down alongside Sam, he took the empty coffee mug out of Sam's curled fingers and began rubbing each of Sam's hands between his own in silence, every now and then stopping to allow Sam to try flexing his fingers.

-o-

Between the warmth of the fire and the touch of the two men coaxing sensation back into his hands and feet, Sam's shivering began to subside, his eyes watering as feeling gradually returned to him. Daniel stood up.

"Be back in a tick."

While the housekeeper was gone, Dean helped his brother out of his jacket.

"You feelin' up to tellin' me what happened yet?"

Sam gave a slight shrug of his shoulders.

"I don't know. I'd been having a good look around, trying to find any sign of the thing that attacked you; there's nothin' by-the-way, not even any wax from the candle. Then I had a real strong feeling that I was being watched, next thing I'm starting to feel cold, you know, like when a spirit or a ghost is in the area? Only this was way more intense, the cold went all the way through and kept on getting worse. I couldn't see any signs of anythin' supernatural anywhere. I figured I needed to get out of there, before I was turned into a solid block of ice. When I was movin' the freezin' cold carried on getting worse right up to the point that I walked back into the garden. That's pretty much it. You saw the rest."

-o-

Dean gazed into the fire thoughtfully, then looked back at his brother.

"So whatever it was, maybe it couldn't cross from the graveyard into the garden? Pollen allergy?... _Or_...Sam? Could there be some kinda protective herb type thing growin' in the garden that stopped it?"

Sam hiked one eyebrow.

"Believe it or not Dean, I _really_ haven't given foliage much thought lately."

Dean pressed on, despite his brother's sceptical tone.

"Could be somethin' like that Meadowsweet, or Wolvesbane, or somethin'. We should check it out."

Daniel walked in carrying a tray with three mugs on it.

"What should you check out? Here sweetheart, the red mug's yours."

Sam stared into the mug of brown liquid, inhaling the strong meaty kind of smell.

"What is it?"

"It's just a beef drink, it'll help warm you on the inside. Dean? Here you go, coffee."

Taking the last mug for himself, Daniel sat down on the sofa again, though this time he left a gap between himself and Sam.

"Well? What was all that about? I mean, the weather's miserable, but it's hardly the Antarctic out there. And _please_ tell me I didn't miss seeing you romping around the gravestones naked because, if I did, I'll weep! Go on then, how _did_ you manage to get so cold?"

-o-

Dean answered before Sam could.

"Put it this way Danny...Grab yourself a tissue, time to start weepin'!"

Sam began to protest, but Dean shook his head sadly.

"Forget it Sammy! Might as well be honest. He would'a found out about your graveyard nudity habit one way or another. Better that he's forewarned."

Misinterpreting the resigned look on Sam's face, Daniel stared at him so bug-eyed, Dean couldn't stop himself from laughing, while Sam just rolled his eyes. Realising his error, Daniel gave Dean a narrow eyed look and reached across Sam to slap Dean's knee good naturedly.

"You're a wicked, wicked boy! You almost had me there, you big tease!"

-o-

"Everything alright gentlemen?"

Daniel stood up with a loud _tut_.

"You _really_ should have a word Father. They're just tormenting the _life_ out of me here. I can't get _any_ of my chores done because of them! They simply won't leave me alone! How did the service go today?"

Father Hanrahan smiled indulgently at his house keeper.

"Fine. There were a couple of dozen attended today, not bad for a weekday morning. And, Daniel, I very much doubt it's our guests who are doing the tormenting, my boy!"

Feigning hurt, Daniel made sure to flounce past the priest, nose in the air.

"I'm just not appreciated around here, I _really_ don't know why I bother to come to work at all some days!"

-o-

The father watched in amusement as Daniel sashayed out of the room before he turned back to the two Hunters.

"I hope our Daniel's not been too much of a bother? As you can tell, he appreciates having an audience!"

Dean grinned.

"Is he always so... _Alive_?"

"I'm afraid so. He's one of those very rare people where very little seems to get him down, and _nothing_ seems to keep him down. I honestly don't know where I'd be without him sorting me out. Unfortunately, not all my colleagues are appreciative of him. They get so hung up on his sexuality that the fools fail to see what a good man he is. In many ways, a far better man than _they_ are. Now, how did _you_ both get on this morning?"

-oOo-  
Chick xxx


	6. Chapter 6

_Dear Guest, later you will look back on chap 5, and realise that was_ _ **nothing**_ _! :D  
_ **Chapter 6  
** -oOo-

Sam and Father Hanrahan watched over Dean's shoulder as he showed them the recording of the mysterious writing appearing on the floor of the church, seemingly of it's own accord.

"I've run the thing at different speeds and nada, still nothing showing."

Sam looked thoughtful.

"Can I have a go?"

Dean vacated the chair.

"Be my guest, Techno Man."

Sam quickly changed the green tinged night vision recording so that, instead, it looked like a black and white negative.

"Right, let's try running it again, frame by frame."

-o-

Dean suddenly leaned forward over Sam's shoulder.

"Stop!"

He pointed to a small white orb that had appeared in the frame and was positioned in almost in front of the alter.

"There! Could be something starting to take form. Move on another couple of frames ... That's it. That orb's _definitely_ got bigger. Way to go Sammy."

The priest crossed himself as he watched, transfixed, as the orb grew and distended frame by frame, until it appeared as a large white smear on screen, and then the writing began to materialise.

"Can you zoom in on our messenger?"

"Sure."

As Sam brought the smear into close up, the priest gasped.

" _Oh my_! Is that...?"

-o-

Dean shook his head.

"Keep your cassock tight, it's not an angel Father, wing shape's all wrong..."

Still leaning over his brother's shoulder, Dean felt Sam flinch and the almost physical heat of Father Hanrahan's wide eyed stare burning into the side of his face. Mentally kicking himself, on the outside Dean didn't lose a beat.

"...All the paintin's and statues I've ever seen show angels with big feathery bird wings. Unless you know somethin' we don't Father? I know it's not very clear, but look."

Dean pointed at the image, his finger tracing around an area that, provided you looked hard enough, was a fraction of a shade lighter than the outer area of the white smear. I'm pretty sure this is an area of wing, see how it's kinda bat shaped? I'm thinkin' this' the creature that went for me. I'm almost sure of it. Can you make it any clearer Sam?"

"I can try."

-o-

Sam did what he could but to no avail.

"I'll print a few frames off, it might show up better as a hard copy."

Father Hanrahan continued staring at the monitor, looking at the image through narrowed eyes, then squinting at each, and finally covering each of his eyes to stare at the image using one eye at a time. Finally straightening up while his printer chugged away to itself in the background.

"Look, I know I shouldn't doubt these things exist. I mean, I'm looking at this image, I see your injuries Dean and, at the end of the day, I _am_ a man of faith. Despite that, I still feel awkward saying this!...If it has bat wings, wouldn't that make it, you know, a _vampire_?"

-o-

Daniel strolled into the living room in time to hear the priest's last sentence. His chuckle caused all three men to turn to the house keeper as Daniel smiled affectionately at the priest.

"Now Father, don't you start wandering off into La-la land! Bad enough you're all running around chasing down ghosts like you're in some Enid Blyton story. Really. All that's missing is the ginger beer. Oh, and the dog!"

-o-

Daniel's smile slowly faded away as he stared back and forth between the three dour and serious expressions that were all directed his way. He reached out, grabbing onto the back of the armchair as his legs suddenly felt weak beneath him. His face was pale and he moved unsteadily to plonk himself down in the chair before his legs gave way completely.

" _HolycrapLordJesus_! You can't be...You _must_ be joking?...Father...Aren't they?"

Clearing his throat, Sam stood and walked across to the stricken man, sitting himself down on the edge of the coffee table in Daniel's direct line of sight.

"Daniel...We need to talk."

-o-

Father Harahan placed a class of sherry in the younger man's shaking hand.

"Drink. All of it."

Daniel accepted the glass without taking his frightened gaze away from Sam and swallowed down the sherry almost on autopilot, grimacing at the taste. His voice was subdued, wavering. The priest watched Daniel with concern and wondered if he needed to prepare himself to have to find an alternative placement for the younger man should Daniel decide to request a transfer to another parish?

"Werewolves?"

Sam nodded.

"Zombies?"

Another nod.

"Witches?"

Nod.

"Big Foot?"

Sam shrugged.

"Not certain about that, but I wouldn't be surprised."

"The Tooth Fairy?"

Sam smiled.

"Yeah, that exists, an' you really _wouldn't_ want to have it visiting you. But, if it helps? The Easter Bunny's not real."

Daniel swallowed down the lump which had formed in his throat and forced a weak smile instead.

"Well. Thank goodness for small mercies. I'm not very fond of rabbits, they can totally ruin the garden."

Father Hanrahan moved to sit himself on the arm of the chair and he rested a hand on the house keeper's shoulder.

"Daniel? Accepting that what these two young men have told us is true, and really, why would they lie? I want you to know that I'll understand if you want to be transferred elsewhere, and I'll make certain you're placed with someone who will fully accept you for who you are, you have my word."

Daniel glanced up at the priest and then over to Dean who held the print outs of the image on screen in his hand.

"This thing? _Is_ it what the Father said?...You know...a _Vampire_?"

Dean gazed steadily back at Daniel.

"No...But we don't know what it actually is...Daniel? I need you to consider something. Even if you do decide you want to move, it won't get you away from what you've been told. You're stuck with that knowledge now. _But,_ it's knowledge that might save your life one day, or the life of someone you care about."

"I know...So. I assume until we figure out what it is, we won't know how to deal with it?"

"That's about the sum of it."

Daniel inhaled deeply, looking from Dean to Sam and, finally, up at the Father.

"What can I do to help?"

-o-

The priest stared at Daniel with something across between shock and wonder, stunned into silence by his housekeeper's words. Dean, however, quickly took up Daniel's offer, knowing it was better for Daniel to still feel he had control over things, that he could _do_ something, rather than have him always thinking he had to run and hide.

"You wouldn't happen to have an artistic streak. would you?"

Daniel nodded.

"Yes actually, I do, but I don't see how..."

Dean offered him the print offs.

"It would be really helpful if you could spend time focusin' on these, try to see what you can of the creature's outline, and pencil in anythin' you can make out in these images that might be a part of the creature's overall shape. Daniel nodded and took the images.

"I'll get onto it straight after lunch...If that's alright with you Father?"

The priest squeezed the younger man's shoulder.

"It's _fine_ by me...You should know that I have never felt so proud of _anyone_ as I do of you right now Daniel. God bless you son."

Flushing scarlet in the light of Father Hanrahan's praise and sincerity, terrified the priest might become tearful, knowing that if that happened, then he himself would be forced to join in, Daniel grinned, trying to lighten the moment and make his escape.

"Well, _hey_! Puffs can pretend to be brave _too_ you know! _Oh crikey!_ Sorry! I have to go rescue lunch!"

-o-

Clutching the print outs, Daniel leapt out of the chair and scurried of to the kitchen, relieved to have an excuse to get away. He needed time alone to think back on the Father's words, and to shed his own tears in private. Daniel's parents had never shown anything but distain for him since, at the age of eleven, he tried to tell them that he thought he liked boys better than girls. Father Hanrahan's words, his expressed pride, meant more to Daniel than the priest would ever know. Sitting himself down at the kitchen table, Daniel put his head in his hands and sobbed, tears of regret, sadness and of happiness combining. He kept his head in his hands, hiding his face when an arm was lain across his back, a hand squeezing his shoulder comfortingly.

"I'm sorry Father Hanrahan. I'm just being silly. All those things Sam told me...It's hard to take in that's all. You go back to our guests, I'll be fine. I'll call you all when lunch is ready."

Daniel's words were ignored, instead he was hushed softly and another reassuring squeeze given. Daniel sighed and took control of his sobbing before raising his head. The weight across his back and shoulders lifted away as he looked up, and Daniel stared wide eyed around the kitchen, empty apart from himself.

-o-

The three men in the living room turned toward the door, hearing Daniel running back to the sitting room. Sam stood up quickly, moving to the door at the same time as, breathing heavily, the housekeeper all but fell through the doorway and into the room, frantically grabbing hold of Sam's arms.

" _Monsters n' thingies!_... _Can some of them be good_?"

-o-

Father Hanrahan seemed to have a belief that sherry was a sort of wondrous cure all, and Daniel quickly had another glass pressed into his hand once he had been encouraged to sit down. The priest and the two Hunters surrounded him, Dean being the one to utilise the coffee table this time.

"Ok friend, deep breaths, then take it from the top. What made you ask that?"

-o-

"Well? What do you think? Am I set to be fitted up for the tight, white jacket? Or _is_ there things out there that help people?...Like angels? What about angels? _They're_ real...Aren't they? _Oh_! I know! Fairies! If the Tooth Fairy's real, then what about run-of-the-mill Tinkerbell types? _They'd_ be good, wouldn't they? What about pixies...?"

Dean held up both hands in surrender.

"Whoa! Slow down. Too many questions at once dude...First off. Yeah, I guess we've met maybe a handful of things that wanted to be helpful or were trying hard to contain their dark side. Sweet, fluffy little Tinkerbell fairies though? Pure make believe my friend."

Father Hanrahan tilted his head and looked at Dean, a challenge in his eyes.

"You haven't answered Daniel's question about angels."

Dean matched the priest's stare.

"Truth is, there's no Hunter ever said to us that they've bumped into one. I guess whether you believe they're real or not, an' whether they're good guys or dicks, is still down to you an' your faith.

Daniel raised his eyebrows.

"Well, _I_ believe in them...Maybe what I felt was my Guardian Angel?"

Dean shrugged.

"You wanna think that? Go right ahead. It's as good as anythin'."

Sam finally spoke up.

"Dean? Unless we're dealin' with some kind of supernatural Dr Jekyll an' Mr Hyde, I'm wonderin' if there might be two separate creatures operating here? Or possibly more?"

Dean touched the wounds on the side of his face.

"Crap! Alright...I really don't like the idea, but seems we'll have to separate tonight bro'. One of us takes the church, while the other stakes out the ruins."

"Rock, paper, scissors?"

-oOo-  
Chick xx


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7  
** -oOo-

Daniel was quieter than Sam or Dean thought possible when, after lunch, the house keeper sat himself at the kitchen table with the print outs, pencil and eraser and began his given task. Father Hanrahan headed into the church to be available for anyone wanting to make use of the confessional box, or just to have a chat to him. Both Hunters politely turned down his offer to join him at the monthly parishioner's meeting he was hosting during the afternoon. Sam made himself comfortable in the living room with his laptop and began researching creatures with bat type wings; while Dean went to their shared bedroom and carefully compiled and checked a selection of weapons that he hoped might be helpful that night in the event of either himself or Sam running into trouble. As he sat cleaning Sam's Taurus, his thoughts drifted back to the creature responsible for the marks on his face, bringing to mind again the image of her gazing up at the stars before she became aware of his presence. He could not recall ever having seen anything like her previously, she completely intrigued him, not least because of her beauty, and he was surprised to realise just how irritated he felt towards Sam for having won two rounds of rock, paper, scissors in succession and then awarding himself the graveyard duty. Dean stood and walked to the window, his eyes drawn to the portion of ruins the view afforded him during the daylight hours.

-o-

Daniel was holding one of the printouts up into the daylight coming in through a window when Dean walked through the kitchen, heading for the back door in silence, without even a glance in Daniel's direction.

"Off out anywhere nice, lamb chop?"

Opening the back door, Dean answered, still not bothering to look at the housekeeper.

"Just gotta check on somethin'."

Daniel frowned, sensing something amiss.

"Sam know you're heading out there?"

Dean halted abruptly, one foot over the threshold. Slowly turning to look back over his shoulder, cold eyes glared at Daniel who froze, the blonde hairs on the back of his neck standing to attention. Dean's voice, deeper than normal, carried a clear edge of warning.

"Hear this, _pal._ I'm not a man who makes a habit of reportin' to my _baby brother_ whenever I need a fart. _Right?_ "

-o-

Shocked, Daniel stood open mouthed, staring after Dean as he took another couple of strides before halting again and, this time, turning around to fully face Daniel, an apologetic look on his face.

"Look, Danny. I'm _really_ sorry, I shouldn't have snapped at you. I was out of order. Sammy's my little brother. Ever since we were kids an' mom died, it's been my job to look after him. I'm worried about him bein' on his own out here tonight. So I'm goin' to do a quick sweep of the place myself first. In our job, it pays to do whatever you can to increase the odds in your favour...Hunter's most often don't get to grow old, an' that's fine for me. It is. But I intend for Sammy to be able to sit in his back yard some day with his shiny bald head and his grey beard, watchin' his great grandkids playin' catch. Understand?"

Daniel swallowed down the lump in his throat.

"I understand...Dean? I think Sam's very lucky to have you around. You be careful."

With a single nod, Dean closed the door and was gone, leaving Daniel sitting quietly, thinking over what he had just heard. Eventually, the housekeeper closed his eyes.

"Hi...Um...It's me. Look, if you _are_ my guardian angel, look after him while he's out there. Keep him safe will you? _Please_?...Er...Thanks...Amen?"

-o-

Sam stared at the list on his notepad. Sticking out his lower lip, he blew a puff of air upwards to move the fine strands of hair that were lying across the bridge of his nose out of the way. He hadn't realised before just how many creatures of myth and legend, whether rightly or wrongly, were purported to have bat type wings as part of their anatomy. Some he knew about, such as vampires and, specifically, Dracula. The Jersey Devil was a familiar one, as was the description of the Mothman having wings more akin to a bat's than a moth's in some versions of the stories relating to him. He had also heard of the Tehi Tegi and in fact had, in the past, come up against a very similar creature called a Kishanta. Carrying on with his search, he soon came across yet another familiar monster. Sam unconsciously leaned in closer to the monitor, gazing attentively at the various pictorial representations, reading and re-reading the accompanying writings, his heartbeat increasing with excitement, he was almost certain _this_ was what they were hunting and, if he was right, then they already knew how to kill it.

-o-

Adding Succubus to his written list, Sam then drew a ring around the name. He smiled when he came across a reference to Gargoyles. The author had repeated the commonly held and widely mistaken belief about them. Sam knew that Gargoyles were nothing more than elaborately carved run offs for excess rain water, a fantastical architectural adornment. It was their counterpart, the Grotesques, that were supposedly there to protect important structures from harm and, as a knock on, anyone on the inside of those same structures. Back in the day they had been frequently carved in order to encourage the populace to feel safe on entering buildings whereon Grotesques were sited. The information to be found about Dragons reflected the popularity of the legend and myth, making it all the harder to pull out fact from fantasy. The majority consensus however, favoured bat shaped wings. Sam knew for a fact that there was at least one type in existence that were able to take on human form. Sam decided he wasn't ready to discount the possibility of a dragon just yet.

-o-

Sam was able to reduce his list by crossing off those creatures who were consistently described as being male, as well as some he was familiar enough with to feel happy about discounting. His focus turned to some of the creatures he had neither previously come across or heard of. The Camazotz, a Myan bat God, was duly discounted for being a purely male creature. The Kongamato turned out to be a flying creature coloured either red or black who's habitat was close to rivers in Africa, and which was thought by some to actually be a Pterodactyl. The creature was also commonly referred to as the _Breaker of Boats_ and, again, most often referred to as _he._ More for the lack of a permanent river, African or not, running through the church grounds than for any other reason, Sam struck a line through Kongamato.

-o-

His eyes were beginning to feel gritty and tired when he came to consider the next creature on his list, and he decided that once he had explored more about the Cyhiraeth and made the decision whether or not it should remain on his list, it would be a good time to take a short break from research. Glancing at his watch, he was surprised to see that over four hours had passed since he had begun his searching and he now had less than thirty minutes before Father Hanrahan would be back to prepare for his evening service. It was also over four hours since he last had a drink. The thought of coffee won out and Sam decided the Cyhiraeth could wait a little while. Leaving his laptop open, Sam headed for the kitchen in search of fresh coffee.

-o-

Daniel looked to be on the verge of getting set to leave when Sam walked into the kitchen.

"You about finished for the day?"

"Very nearly, but don't worry. I'm not about to leave my three charges starving. Seeing as you're here, I can save myself some writing. First, I've made a nice rich stew for this evening. It's in the slow cooker, all you have to do is help yourselves when you're ready and turn off the slow cooker when you've done. Dessert's under that towel, freshly baked today. There's plenty of bread in the bread-bin, I only baked it yesterday. There's a fresh pot of coffee...Oh, you found it already. In the fridge you'll find two plastic containers, one for you and one for Dean. They're to take with you tonight in case you get peckish while you're on watch. Help yourselves to anything out the refrigerator. There's a variety of snack food in there for your supper or whatever, as well as some cold beers. Fresh fruit if you want it is in the pantry. Now, let me think, is that everything?...Whoops! The printouts. I've done what I can, but there wasn't much to work with."

-o-

Picking up two of the printouts, Daniel passed one to Sam.

"That's one where I've drawn over the bits that seemed to be part of the thing's shape. Like I said, not much to work with."

Sam studied the few, mainly disconnected, pencil strokes.

"It might not be much, but this part? That could _definitely_ be the edge of a bat shaped wing."

Daniel grinned,

"True...Or possibly an umberella?"

He handed the second sheet to Sam.

"Based on what I've been able to pick out on the others, I used that one to have a go at filling in the blanks. It's only how I _imagined_ the whole thing might come together, so don't take it too seriously."

-o-

Sam gazed at the finely crafted drawing.

"This' really good! Did you take a Fine Art degree?"

Daniel seemed surprised by Sam's compliment and, as usual, made light of it.

"Who me? Sadly, no...And _that_ , darling, is why I'm a humble housekeeper, instead of holding my rightful place as the ingénue of the art world."

From the small partial view on the first printout, Daniel had lightly drawn the back view of a slender female sporting a complete set of large wings. He had given the figure wings in an elongated batwing shape, the end result being quite dragonesque in appearance.

"Well, I gotta say, I don't think you're far off in your interpretation...I'll show this to Dean, it backs up somethin' I'd wondered about. Thanks for this Daniel. It's really useful."

"Glad to be of service. Could you let Father Hanrahan know I'll be in at six thirty tomorrow morning? Right, that's that then. You and that brother of yours be careful and stay safe tonight, ok? I'm assuming Dean got back without any new bumps and bruises earlier?"

Sam stalled with his mug of coffee half way to his lips.

"What're you talkin' about? Got back from where?"

-o-

The door to the guestroom was banged open and Sam strode in, swiftly glancing around.

"Dean? You in the bathroom? _Dean_?"

No longer caring about privacy, he pushed open the bathroom door. Closing it again, Sam turned to face Daniel who hovered anxiously in the doorway to the bedroom.

"How long ago did he set off?"

-oOo-  
Chick xxx


	8. Chapter 8

**_Oh boy_** _._ _ **Please accept my apologies for being crap**_ _. Because while people  
_ _have been so lovely and taken time to review, I still haven't had chance to  
_ _respond to you, also it's been some time since I last posted a new chapter, and  
_ _the only excuse I have is life. I know, not good enough. I swear I'll do better!  
_ ** _Double length chapter to say "Sorry."  
_** **Chapter 8  
** -oOo-

Harsh reality had robbed Daniel of the ability to move as, standing silently at the bottom of Sam's bed he watched Sam checking through an untidy heap of items that had clattered onto the coverlet of Dean's bed from one of two kitbags that he had produced from beneath the bed. The housekeeper's previous secretly romanticised notion of the two brothers and their lives as the "Heroic Hunters of Night Spawn" had begun to crumble around him at his unexpected introduction to the tools of the Hunter's trade. Dean's earlier statement about Hunters not usually surviving to enjoy old age now haunted Daniel. And he understood that, as he had done today, Dean would put himself at even greater risk if he felt that was the way to increase the chance that one of them, _Sam,_ survived. What Daniel _didn't_ get was why Dean felt it was alright if he himself failed to make old age and now, watching Sam, he wondered how the younger brother felt about his older brother's view? It occurred to Daniel that Dean was very much in a Catch 22 situation. _He takes extra risks to try to keep his brother safe, which has_ _ **got**_ _to increase the likelihood of Dean winding up dead, so than he wouldn't be around to keep Sam safe, so that would increase the chance of Sam winding up dead as well, so never getting to be bald and bearded!_ Already feeling miserable with guilt, Daniel now felt worse than ever. He wanted Sam to say something, tell him everything was ok really because Dean had a magic something-or-other that stopped him from getting hurt, or a Harry Potter cloak of invisibility. He wished the Father was there, he wished he'd told Sam straight away that Dean had gone off alone, he wished he'd noticed that Dean hadn't come back. He _really_ wished he'd understood earlier, then he might've tried throwing himself in front of Dean, refusing to let him leave. Then...Once he'd picked himself up off the floor, he would've gone screaming to Sam.

-o-

All Daniel could really do however was feel like crap and watch in silence while Sam donned a jacket then checked the rounds in a gun and, seeming satisfied, he tucked the weapon into the back of his jeans. An odd shaped dagger also disappeared inside his jacket. A weapon with a bright and slender blade was slipped down the inside of one boot. Sam briefly glanced up at the watching man, then continued with his task. What looked like a length of iron rod was concealed within his jacket on the opposite side to the strange dagger and a silver coloured hip flask went into a top pocket. Sam picked up a set of hand-cuffs and a small torch, considered them, and threw the handcuffs back onto the bed while pocketing the torch. He patted a second top pocket then pulled out a Zippo, flicking it once to ensure it worked before dropping it back in the pocket. Finally he picked up a small bottle which, from where Daniel stood, appeared to contain normal looking oil. Just as Daniel thought he must have finished, Sam rummaged around in the second duffle bag, producing a hand held pistol. Checking it, Sam emptied out the bullets that were in it. Extracting a black box from the duffle, Sam replaced the bullets with ones out of the box and kept the pistol in his hand. Daniel's innate curiosity meant he desperately wanted to ask _Why_? Did the bullets in the box have some special thingummy that meant you couldn't miss? Instead of asking, Daniel stuck with his silence. At last Sam straightened his jacket and moved towards him, and Daniel saw something different about the quieter, more studious brother; something he couldn't define.

"Before you go, leave a note for the Father tellin' him where I've gone, an' that he's to stay put. Thanks."

Without waiting for a response, Sam strode past the shell-shocked man, hurrying along the corridor and out of sight.

-o-

For a while Daniel still didn't move; then he slowly walked across to the two duffels and began to tidily re-packed the equipment Sam had left behind before he too vacated the room. Almost trance like, he wandered listlessly to the sitting room. Father Hanrahan walked in as Daniel was raising a trembling hand holding a tumbler filled with a generous amount of whisky to his lips. With barely a glance at the priest, he swallowed down half the contents. Father Hanrahan stared at his housekeeper.

"Daniel? What in God's green earth is the matter my boy? Where's Sam and Dean?"

-o-

Dusk was beginning to fall when Sam began to move quietly and quickly through the graveyard, heading straight for the ruins of the old Church, his face set in a determined expression. Although he very much wanted to find Dean sat unharmed waiting for the bat woman to appear so that he could pound on his older brother for the worry he had caused, Sam strongly doubted that he would get his wish. Getting closer to the site of the ruins, he began scanning the ground on either side and ahead, largely expecting to see the shape of his brother lying somewhere around, hoping that when he did, it was because Dean was unconscious, not the unthinkable alternative.

-o-

"And Sam's gone out there now to look for him?"

Daniel nodded unhappily.

"He specifically wanted me to tell you to stay here...Sam _has_ to be alright, doesn't he Father? I mean, with the amount of weapons he's got on him?...I can't stop thinking about how this mess is all my fault. I feel so rotten guilty, and crap. _Why_ didn't I notice that Dean hadn't come back?...I just sorta assumed he'd come in while I wasn't in the kitchen. I'm so bloody self centred. If I wasn't, I would've checked! All I had to do was ask Sam...But, like a moron, I kept out of his way instead. I should've disturbed him, Father Hanrahan. I honestly never thought there was any reason to... _Goddammit_! I'm _useless_ , totally _useless!"_

Father Hanrahan was mortified to hear Daniel blaming himself and decrying himself The younger man taking God's name in vain simply re-enforced to the priest how terrible he, quite wrongly, felt about himself. Father Hanrahan stood himself in front of Daniel and rested a hand on each of his shoulders.

"Daniel. _Enough_. I don't want to hear any more unnecessary self blame from you, and I _definitely_ don't want to hear any more utter nonsense about you being _useless_! I can think of a few words I _might_ use to describe you, but _never_ useless! And I _demand_ that you get rid of all that guilt right now! It doesn't belong to you, so you have no right to keep it. Understand? _I_ don't blame you for any of this and I can assure you, my son, neither do Sam or Dean."

Daniel shook his head, already on the verge of tears.

"You can't know that! _You_ didn't hear how Sam sounded when he told me to write you a note."

-o-

Taking his hands off his housekeeper's shoulders, the priest took a step back and folded his arms across his chest, gazing seriously at Daniel.

"My apologies. You're right of course. I _didn't_ hear, so maybe he _was_ being angry towards you. _Not_ angry at Dean for sneaking off as well as worrying about his brother, or thinking about where to start searching, or scared that his brother could be hurt...Or worse. Or already focusing on how best to stop himself getting hurt so he can help his brother, or preparing himself for the possibility of having to battle some unknown creature alone, _or_ not being able to find his brother. I suppose it _is_ possible Sam had none of those things in mind and he was just angry because you didn't report to him that his older brother had gone out in daylight. Oh, _and_ because you didn't know there was anything to be worried about. What do you think, have I left out anything else Sam _wouldn't_ have had on his mind?"

"I think you probably covered everythin...Father? Thank you, I _do_ know you're right. What do we do now?"

Father Hanrahan put a hand in the middle of Daniel's back and began steering him out of the sitting room.

"In truth, there's nothing more you _can_ do now, so I want you to get yourself home and try to get a good night's sleep. I promise I will ring you the moment they return, alright? I don't want you here tomorrow either. Take some time for yourself. Like me, you must need time to come to terms with the things we've both been told. "

Daniel applied his breaks, planting both feet solidly, stopping the priest guiding him to the kitchen to collect his belongings.

" _No_! I can't. I _have_ to stay, I need to be here Father. I need to see they're ok for myself. If you don't want me hanging around in here, that's fine. I'll sit outside in my car all night if I have to."

Father Hanrahan gazed at Daniel, seeing the determination in his eyes. Finally, he sighed.

"Fine. Stay. _But,_ there's one condition. I _insist_ you give me your word _right now_ that you'll remain indoors!"

Daniel's expression quickly altered to one of suspicion on hearing the priest's words.

"Forgive me Father, for I'm about to be blunt! _No_ chance...Sir... No _way_! I Know what you're up to now!...You're planning to go after Sam. Well, I'll be coming _with_ you... _Sir_."

-o-

Sam had seen no sign of his brother by the time he reached the edge of the ruins and his concern had hit sky high. So much so that he was struggling to think straight, his head stuck on a mantra of _Where are you, where are you, where are you?_ Immediately within the area surrounding the ruins, the light levels seemed dimmer than they had a right to be and Sam began to consider risking using his torch to aid his search. So intent on the search and his need to find Dean, Sam didn't notice that he had attracted the piercing scrutiny of a nearby and profoundly curious observer. Eyes filled with an unsavoury interest scanned the whole of him appreciatively, waiting for the Hunter to cautiously pass by before the creature made a move. Sam remained completely unaware of the large ghost white form that then swooped down in silence from it's high perch and skimmed through the trees away from him, the only sign of it's passing being the breeze from it's wings lightly ruffling the higher leaves of the deciduous trees it flew over.

-o-

Sam ground to a halt when she suddenly appeared, standing a few yards head and boldly staring right at him. She had stepped out into the open from behind one side of the ruined arch and Sam was transfixed, forgetting all about the pistol in his hand. It was the first time Sam had clearly seen her. Dean hadn't said much, merely describing her as _Hot,_ but Sam saw for himself, she was far beyond than that. She was _perfect!_...And had taken off and was flying directly towards him, fury marring her features, arms stretched out in front of her, grasping hands reaching for him, her slender fingers bent at unnatural angles forming twisted claws sporting thick, crusted elongated finger nails. The black lace shawl covering her head fell back and long blue black hair broke free, whipping and streaming loose behind her. An unearthly, angry howl came from her open mouth, she was about to attack.

-o-

Jarred from his statue like state, Sam remembered the pistol in his hand. He managed to stumble back a step and half raise the weapon, then she had him. With a twist of her body and just one solid sweep from a single wing, Sam was scooped up like a lacrosse ball, losing the gun when he was effortlessly released to catapult backwards through the air until his introductory flight was cut breathtakingly short by the intervention of the broad trunk of an ancient pine tree. The vibration startled down a cascade of dead pine needles, shaking them loose to shower down to the earth below with a sound like a long, drawn out, hiss of steam. Several lower branches snapped and broke away under the assault of Sam's weight as he crashed through them. The sound of his forehead thumping against a thick, knotted root that coiled over the ground from the base of the tree accompanied the dwindling sound of the last of the shedding pine needles, many of which landed on Sam; slipping and spilling over the face and chest of the silent Hunter.

-o-

Elsewhere, the faint glimmer of partial consciousness touched Dean. Disorientated, partially formed thoughts and recollections fluttered like butterflies through his mind, none landing long enough for him to net them and study them. His physical body recognised cold and responded by instinctively curling up into a foetal position, attempting to retain some semblance of warmth at it's core. The automated movement drew out a harsh, abstract sound of pain from deep within the Hunter's throat. The sound dieing when he lost his slender, fingertip hold on partial awareness.

-o-

"...still breathing?"

"Yes, thank the Lord...Sam? Sam do you hear me?...Squeeze my hand if you can hear me...That's it! Good boy! Sam, I want you to open your eyes now...Come on son. How about you try a little harder for me? Hmmm?"

When Sam did crack his eyes open, it took a little while for him to bring the blurred face above him into any kind of focus, but it gradually morphed into the face of the priest, his features pronounced by torchlight.

"Do you know who I am? What my name is?"

A second face suddenly appeared next to the priest's.

"Or mine?"

"Daniel! Please?"

"You're not supposed to give him the answer!"

The second face rolled it's eyes and disappeared again. Sam's weak voice answered the priest.

"Father...Father H'nrnh'n."

"Good lad. Father Hanrahan, that's right. You've had quite a nasty knock to the head. We need to get it looked at. Now, do you think you could walk with our help? Or should I send Daniel to call for an ambulance?"

Father Hanrahan was caught by surprised by how adamant the injured Hunter's response was.

" _No_! No. _Can't_. No hospital! 'M fine!"

Still fuzzy and unsure what had happened, Sam never-the-less hurriedly tried to sit up, falling back with a moan as a wave of nausea washed through him, dragging after the Alpha Headache, keen to move in, carrying matching luggage and planning to stay a while from the outset.

"Easy, easy Sam! Alright, no hospital, just, stay still and let us help you...Daniel? Take the torch. In the shed, you'll find an old wheelchair..."

"No problem. I'll be as fast as I can...But if you hear me scream... _No_! Forget I said that. _Back in a mo_."

-o-

Manoeuvring the tall, well muscled, and still dazed Hunter firstly into the ripped and ragged wheelchair with it's two flat tyres was a complex and heavy task. But it paled in comparison to the physical strain on both the priest and Daniel in their battle to push the chair and occupant first out of the overgrown, unkempt area of the ruins, and then over the wet mud and grass within the old graveyard itself, dodging trees, shrubs and grave markers. The party had to stop on more than one occasion to accommodate either of the two men's need to fill their lungs properly. Daniel almost managed to convince both himself _and_ Father Hanrahan that the graveyard had been magically enlarged to at least twice it's normal size. Eventually he was advised _Less chat_ , _more push._

-o-

By the time they reached their destination, Daniels arms and legs were trembling in response to the strain, and the priest wasn't faring any better. There had been no communication throughout the latter part of the exercise, everything being directed into pushing the wreck of a wheelchair and gulped inhalations of precious oxygen. Daniel sincerely doubted that the gates of Heaven itself could look any more marvellous to him as the back door to the kitchen of the lodgings did when they finally staggered up to it.

-o-

When Dean's eyes eventually opened a second time, it was to a much greater degree of consciousness and the realisation that he wasn't in the middle of an earthquake after all; the shaking he could feel was actually his own body shivering. Turning his head, all around him was nothing but total darkness.

"G..g..g..reat. R..r..really g..g.. _awesome_!"

With a deep sigh of resignation, he began to force himself to unfurl, catching his breath, squeezing his eyes closed and cursing through gritted teeth at the sharp pains that flared up his right leg and from wrist to shoulder in his right arm.

" _Sonovabitch_ s _hit'ngoddamnit!_ "

Giving the pain time to settle back down to just tolerable he took a wild guess that, wherever he was, he had landed there on his right side. He cast his mind back, seeking some clue as to how he came to be lying wearing soaking wet clothes, freezing cold and in the dark? A darkness that, he suddenly realised, had the overpowering and stomach churning stench of rotting, decaying vegetation and fungi. The stink instantly became irrelevant when the badly edited version of events preceding waking up in the cold and dark came back to him.

-o-

Sam closed his eyes and groaned at the bright light within the kitchen that caused the Alpha headache to shape shift into a hyperactive, tap dancing, berserker. Panting, he leaned forward in the wheelchair, and seconds later, with perfect timing, a clean bucket was thrust into his hands. Unable to hold back, Sam made full use of it. He sat miserable and shaking as the bucket disappeared, to be replaced by a glass of clear, cool water. Like a man trapped in a desert, Sam tried to gulp the water down but was stopped by a hand appearing and lying itself flat across the top of the glass.

"Slowly, slowly Dimples, or you'll not keep it down."

The hand was removed and Sam duly complied. When the glass was empty, it too disappeared, and a figure knelt in front of him. Sam raised his head a little and looked at Father Hanrahan through slitted eyes.

"Sam? Do you think you can stand long enough to move out of this thing and onto a dining chair?"

"Hmmm...Mebbe."

With the wheelchair positioned alongside a dining chair, Sam used to dining table to push himself unsteadily to his feet, twisting his hips slightly before letting himself drop down onto the wooden chair. A bowl of tepid water with a white cloth floating in it appeared in front of him next, and he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Alright sweetie. I'm going to clean the blood off your head and face so's we can see how gorgeous you are again, ok? Then we'll have a look at what the damage is. Ready?"

"No! _Dean_. _He_ s'pposed to do it...Need m' brother!"

-oOo-  
Chick xx  
Wiv wuv


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9  
** -oOo-

Knowing that to stay where he was meant he would continue to get colder and wetter, Dean had wriggled and rolled and forced himself to straighten out, in spite of his injuries, and from there to sit up. A ginger exploration of his right leg had not found any broken ends of bones poking through flesh anywhere and Dean was grateful for that. He suspected, however, that his right ankle was either fractured, very badly strained, or he had torn the ligaments. Whatever the cause, putting weight on it was going to offer very little in the way of fun. His shoulder was much easier to figure, he recognised the familiar sensations and hurt associated with it being dislocated. There was also no doubting that he had managed to fracture the wrist of the same arm quite badly, leaving him able to do very little with that hand. His least concern were the various areas of bruising he discovered during his explorations.

-o-

Dean began using his uninjured hand to search various pockets, wanting to carry out an inventory of what he had on him, useful or not. What he would have _liked_ to have found was a torch, loaded gun, cell phone complete with signal, a set of dry clothes, a wrist brace, any kind of ankle support, food and, most of all, a map showing the way out of wherever he was! Rarely had he sneaked off to try and spot some supernatural creature or other with so little preparation and thought. He couldn't quite believe he had acted so amateurishly and naive, all because he felt jealous when Sam chose to stake out the graveyard that night, the task Dean had wanted in order to see the female creature again. Instead, Sam would likely get to see her, not himself. For some reason that Dean didn't get, from that point it seemed he'd let Little Dean lead the way... _Unless_?

-o-

All Dean's pocket searching paused when the word _Succubus_ suddenly entered into his thoughts. _That was it_! It _had_ to be! Everything about her fit. From the mummified bodies of the murder victims, probably sucked dry, to the identikit they'd come up with, _and_ the common description of a female succubus' appearance when they weren't hiding behind the glamour! Dean fired of the pointers aloud.

"Beautiful. Hell, the bitch sure got that part goin' for her. Bat like wings, check...And horns! Dammit, I _knew_ I'd seen horns through that window! Way to go, Dean "Numbnuts" Winchester, you should'a had her tagged first time you saw her in the graveyard.!"

Except, he was _almost_ certain the thing he had seen in the graveyard had no horns, or possibly they were hidden under the black lace she wore covering her head?

-o-

Running his functioning hand over the small selection of things he had found so far, there wasn't much to inspire. He had the couple of paperclips that were clipped to one of the inside seams on his jacket, great if he managed to find his way to a door that needed unlocking. A couple of folded pieces of paper he recognised as cash, probably not enough to bribe a Succubus into letting him go. A small penknife, maybe good for tunnelling his way out, if he worked at it for a few months? Dean shrugged one shoulder, any weapon was better than none. A screwed up piece of paper, he recalled a waitress at one of the diners they had gone in giving him her number. Right now, he might have rung her, asked her to ring Sammy and tell him to come get him...Dean gave a dry huffed laughed...'Course, to ring her he needed his cell on him and, if he'd had it, he could've rung Sam himself.

-o-

His big find to that point was a small hip flask. Not sure whether he preferred the contents to be Holy water or alcohol, he unscrewed the lid and sniffed. _Alcohol it is_ _then._ Raising the flask to his lips he took one swallow, enjoying the burn of the liquid travelling down his throat. Unable to utilise his injured arm, Dean bit down on his lip as he twisted his torso and reached around with his good arm to pat at the right hand back pocket of his denims, giving a tight smile and a quiet _Yahtzee_ when he felt something familiar. A real hope of escaping his surroundings flared alongside the flame from his Zippo.

-o-

"Here you go, for the major headache I know you've more than likely got."

Sam squinted suspiciously at the two tablets in the priest's open hand.

"They what Dean got?"

"Yes. Exactly the same."

Sam pushed the Father's hand away.

"No. Hav'ta stay awake."

Father Hanrahan considered the young man sat in his kitchen, he was holding his head in his hands, having to shade his eyes from the light. There was a couple of steri-strips holding together the cut highlighting an obvious lump on his forehead that sat like a patch of high ground surrounded by a landscape of dark purple fields that were his bruises. Bruises which included an almost comic strip black eye. Watching Daniel work once Sam finally gave in to his ministrations, the priest had been, and still was, surprised that the concussion wasn't many times more severe.

"Sam listen to me. The worst they'll do is make you feel drowsy. Dean's reaction was unusual. I'd assumed he slept out pure weariness but, looking back, I think he experienced one of their less common side effects. It doesn't mean _you_ will though and I'm sorry but, looking at you? You need these my boy."

It sort of made sense to Sam. Dean _did_ seem to be oversensitive to some medicines, whereas Sam was fine taking them. And anaesthetics tended to send his brother soppily loopy. Still, even suffering like he was, Sam hesitated, forcing Father Hanrahan to start playing dirty.

" _Samuel_! Listen to me. You're obviously in pain, bruised and concussed. I'll be honest, _I'd_ rather you were sat having an x-ray of your skull right now. You need to get some rest. Now, it's up to you. You can do that here...Or you can do it in hospital. Well?"

Sam lifted his head, weary eyes fighting to focus, his skin pale where it wasn't bruised.

"M'ok, s'not so bad..."

"Daniel? Would you be so good as to dial 911 and request the attendance of the paramedics service at Saint Augustine's Lodge?"

"Of course Father."

Sam glowered at the priest, and accepted the pain killers.

-o-

Worn and fatigued, though in much less pain, Sam stretched out on the longest couch and closed his eyes while he waited for the residual headache to disperse. Realising the Hunter had fallen asleep, Father Hanrahan went to wake him, earning himself a mumbled _P'soff D'n_ , for his trouble. And so he and his housekeeper settled down to keep a careful watch over the Hunter. It didn't take very long for Daniel to begin a round of frequent wide mouthed yawning, each time accompanied by the appearance of a single tear from one eye that dribbled down the side of his face. Father Hanrahan could feel himself growing increasingly tense with every gasping yawn.

"Daniel! For Heaven's sake! Why don't you make use of a bed in the guest room? It's been a long day, you look almost as bad as Sam. Go on. I'll stay here and watch him. I'll wake you if I need you."

"But, what about you Father?"

Father Hanrahan smiled, glad that Daniel hadn't voiced an automatic refusal.

"I'm used to keeping irregular hours, I'll be fine. _Besides_. If you get some sleep now? Later on, you can keep watch while _I_ grab an hour, alright? Off you go. Tomorrow will be hard on us all. I won't be opening the church. We need to help this young man search for his brother; and _keep_ searching, until we find him...You _do_ realise, don't you Daniel, that finding him may not provide the positive outcome we're all praying for?"

Daniel gazed sadly over to Sam, then determinedly shook his head _no_ before looking back at the priest.

"That's _not_ going to be how this ends Father, it isn't... We'll find Dean. We'll find him and he'll be alive. You'll see. I have complete faith in it."

The priest smiled kindly at the younger man.

"Then so do I, Daniel, so do I."

-o-

Not being used to such peaks and troughs of adrenaline, Daniel was bone weary, too tired to argue against lying down on a comfortable bed. With a last check on Sam, he made Father Hanrahan promise again to wake him if necessary before he gratefully headed off to the guest room; convinced in his own mind that the day's events would surely keep him awake...They didn't.

-o-

Still sat on the floor, Dean eagerly viewed what the Zippo's flame showed him of his surroundings. His impression was that he was sitting within a vaguely circular area, like a cave or what would be a sizeable hole, around fifteen feet or so in diameter. The cavern sides looked to be made of earth the colour of heavy clay soil and curved inwards, to form the dome of the ceiling which looked reasonably low, Dean guestimated around ten foot or so. Looking directly up from where he was sitting, in the centre of the dome was a dark rectangular hole which looked as if it probably headed upward, like a sizeable central chimney. With just a Zippo, Dean wasn't going to be able to see how long the chimney was, or whether it curved at any point up it's length. Killing the flame, he peered up again, but saw no sign of either daylight or night sky. A thought did occur to him however. Given that he was directly beneath the chimney hole, falling or possibly even being dropped down the chimney might be how he ended up where he was. He quickly blocked out the uncomfortable and unwanted image of himself sitting inside a clay oven.

-o-

Flicking the Zippo back into life, Dean gazed around at the floor and curled one side of his top lip up in distaste. The ground was coated in a good couple of inches of what looked like tar coloured slime, the result of the moist air, the dark and the gradual decay of plants, foliage, twigs, broken tree branches and other debris, including signs of more general waste, such as aluminium cans and snack food packaging. Happy to be in the dark amongst the rot, numerous different suspicious looking fungi grew and flourished here and there amongst the foul and fetid thick soup. Dean considered his situation, and came to the conclusion that being compost wasn't the best direction his career could have gone in.

-o-

Father Hanrahan could feel himself getting _way_ too comfortable in the darkened sitting room, lit only by the glow and flicker of the fire. It was a little over an hour since his charge had fallen into a deep sleep courtesy of the drugs the priest had insisted he take, and Sam hadn't moved or made a murmur since, the only sound being that of his soft and steady breathing. Needing to move before he too fell asleep, the priest decided to try reading and to make himself a fresh pot of strong coffee. He headed in the direction of the kitchen to make coffee first. Watching the dark brown liquid filling the coffee pot, he couldn't help but wonder what Dean was doing at that same moment, assuming the Hunter was still alive? Although it hadn't been specifically voiced, something had clearly happened to him that was bad enough to stop him from returning. The Father had seen enough of Sam and Dean to know they weren't a pair who would intentionally cause each other any unnecessary worry, especially when they were actively undergoing a hunt. He fervently hoped they would be successful in finding the older of the two brothers when daylight came, whether alive or not. The priest had seen enough to know that, even in the worst case scenario, it would be better for Sam if they managed to find Dean's body. The only way there could be closure for Sam was for him to know what had happened to his sibling. Suddenly impatient, Father Hanrahan stared at the coffee machine, willing it to complete it's task quickly, keen to return to the sitting room where he was sure that, somewhere on the bookshelves, were copies of the architect's drawings for both St Augustine's _and_ it's forerunner _,_ St Swithun's church. If he could find them, he was _sure_ they would prove helpful in the search for the missing Hunter.

-o-

A sudden cold breeze blew around Daniel, causing him to shift in his sleep and roll onto his side, putting his back towards the source of the cold air. He murmured unintelligibly when a hand gently moved the wavy, pale blonde hair back off the side of his face and stroked softly down his cheek. His eyes snapped open sharply however, when two hands wrapped tightly around his neck and squeezed hard enough to cut off his airway. At the same moment, he heard the sound of a single church bell clang once, so loud he could almost believe it was in the same room as himself and the overly endowed female _thing_ who was doing such an excellent job of strangling him, however much he thrashed, slapped and even, once, punched her, all-be-it in her ear. _In rather a butch fashion_ his oxygen starved mind assured him, just before his life came to an end.

-oOo-  
Chick xx :(


	10. Chapter 10

_Janiekm is really, really mad at me now. Heeelllppp! :(  
_ **Chapter 10  
** -oOo-

Barely able to reach the top bookshelf, Father Hanrahan used his fingertips to snag the ancient and battered soft brown leather sheet music wallet he was after. He successfully managed to creep the wallet to the front edge of the shelf, enabling himself from where he a slightly better grip on it when the single ring of a non-existent church bell exploded around the sleepy quiet of the sitting room. The startled priests' stomach lurched in shock, the tiniest fraction of a moment ahead of the rest of his body going for lift off. The unsecured music wallet flipped open as it sailed through the air, releasing a mass of church documents behind itself before it flopped down neatly onto Sam's chest.

-o-

The Hunter mumbled as he rolled onto his side, sending the folder sliding to the floor, then continued sleeping peacefully. Father Hanrahan gazed at Sam, the only way he could possibly still be sleeping was if, like his brother, he too had reacted to the drugs. Father Hanrahan vowed to himself he would throw the rest away the first chance he got. It crossed his mind that a soundly sleeping Hunter wasn't particularly helpful. The priest instantly admonished himself, reminding himself that Sam was injured, Dean was missing, and that both men were in the position they were because _he_ had asked for help, and they had willingly responded to a stranger's call. The bell rang it's one note again as the priest knew it would. Ignoring it, the Father gazed at the documents strewn around the room and wondered to himself, was God sending him a message? Was it something about the Hunters? Father Hanrahan didn't think so. _What then?_ All at once it came to the priest and he smiled. It was so obvious! The Father glanced over to Sam again. _That has to be it! Of_ _course!_ God wanted _him_ to confront this thing, whatever it might be. He was being tested...As Father Ipswich had been. It all made perfect sense to the priest and, if God had chosen this moment to test him, then he could not, _would not,_ refuse. It was all so clear...God was asking him to demonstrate how immovable his faith was. God had created the opportunity for him to step forward and challenge the foul and unnatural beast, and to drive it screaming from this holy place. The priest smiled grimly, he intended to start by blessing each room in the lodgings, and then to do the same inside the church itself. He meant to leave the daemon spawn with no place to hide nor claim sanctuary. He meant to banish it right back to Hell, where all unnatural things surely belonged?

-o-

The bell continued striking it's sombre tone at regular intervals while, jogging, the priest turned onto the narrow corridor which took him past the guest room and on to where a further turn led the short distance to his own bedroom. Drawing level with the guest room, he paused long enough to knock loudly and shout through the closed door.

" _Daniel_! _Wait for me in the_ _sitting room!"_

Hurrying onward, Father Hanrahan's mind was entirely focused on what he needed to do, his thoughts never sidetracking to consider how odd it was that Daniel was apparently still within the room, when surely the deafening sound of the bell should have woken him, sending him racing to the sitting room already?

-o-

The evenly paced sound of the bell chime continued tormented him while the Father hurriedly donned his cassock and quickly kissed the embroidered cross on his purple stole before draping it haphazardly across the back of his neck and over his shoulders to hang down the front of his cassock. Striding to his bedside cabinet he grabbed a simple silver crucifix off the top, hanging it around his neck while picking up his own well thumbed, and undeniably tatty, copy of the bible. Yanking open the cabinet's single drawer, he pulled out a small, plain silver bottle with a screw top. Satisfied, he left his room and, lifting up the skirt of his cassock, jogged back towards the sitting room, the sound of the bell seeming to adapt and be taunting him about being unable to run faster. The bell sounded again at the same time as the priest entered the sitting room, where he came to a sudden, heart sinking, stop.

" _Daniel_?"

-o-

Despite his persistence, the soft layer of greasy, slick slime underlying the muddy, stinking pool of decay made it impossible for Dean to get the grip he needed to be able to push himself upright using only one leg and one hand. Each time he slid back into the stinking mush, he became more coated in it and managed only to jar either his ankle, his wrist, his shoulder, the bruising, or all of them together. Dean yelled out loud in his frustration and rage.

 _"_ _Goddammit! Goddamnfreakinshithole! WhotheHell gets dumped inna toilet an' lefttorot?_ S'right. _DeanfreakinWinchester._ _ **Every time**_ _!"_

As he sat panting from his exertions and his shouting, Dean listened, more than half hoping his noise had managed to draw a reaction from somebody or some _thing_. Sick of sitting around in the dark, stuck in the middle of some kind of prehistoric stew and constantly feeling like he'd peed his pants, he didn't care anymore if he attracted the attention of a human or a fugly. He wanted out of this cess pit. Unfortunately, his shouting didn't appear to have disturbed anyone _._

-o-

Dean slowly and painfully slid and sloshed himself backwards on his butt, keeping going until his back bumping against the pit's side stopped him. Reaching out in the darkness, he grimaced as he ran his left hand over the wet, undulating, slimy surface of the steep clay soil wall, his hope of finding any solid handholds of any sort quickly dashed. He desperately needed to get up and moving, his feet were already numb from the cold, his denims heavy with dirty water, thick clay mud and clinging clumps of rancid debris and at some point, he assumed, it was almost guaranteed that he would be visited by the thing that had dumped him here. Dean was sure that his brother would be searching for him, but he wasn't the sort to sit around and wait. Like in those old prisoner of war films, he felt it was his absolute _duty_ to escape. Dean wriggled around until his left hand side was up against the wall. He pulled the penknife out of his jacket pocket, and stilled, almost sure he had heard something. Holding his breath he concentrated on listening, and a few seconds later, there it was again, the single ring of a church bell off in the distance.

-o-

Another two rings told Dean the bell was sounding at five second intervals, a slow, mournful pace he couldn't help associating with funerals. Hearing the sound reassured Dean that he was still somewhere in the vicinity of St Augustine's, however, it also reinforced his separation. Something was happening back where Sam was, and Dean was horribly, sickeningly aware of being unable to help. Angrily, he rammed the blade of the penknife against the slick clay wall much harder than he intended, nearly losing the blade in the process when it sank so far into the wet soil that Deans knuckles were flush up against the clay. Ensuring he didn't lose his grip on the handle, he carefully eased the penknife back out of the clay, wiping it off as best he could on the damp, muddy, front of his jacket before putting it away again. His hopes of it lodging into the wall and being stable enough to provide him with a solid handhold having been dashed.

"Fine. No problem. Plan B's good... _You hear me bitch_? Soon as I get outta here? _I'm comin' for you_!"

-o-

The sitting room was empty save for the sleeping Hunter. A chill ran down Father Hanrahan's spine. This wasn't right, not one bit. Daniel should be there, fussing over the Hunter. Why wasn't Daniel here fussing? The priest's already over stretched nerves stretched further still. _Dear God. Please, let him be alright!_ Crossing quickly over to Sam, the Father leaned over him and, making the sign of the cross over the younger man, placed his bible on the Hunter's chest. Straightening up again, he fished out the silver bottle from his cassock pocket and rapidly unscrewed it's lid, as he began a fervent invocation.

"Saint Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle; be our defence against the wickedness and snares of the devil. May God rebuke him, we humbly pray; and do thou, O prince of the heavenly host, by the power of God, cast into hell Satan and all the other evil spirits who roam about the world, seeking the ruin of souls...Amen."

He poured a small amount of Holy water into the palm of his hand and with a flick of his wrist, splashed the holy water into the centre of the room. Hurrying out of the sitting room he could feel his own heart beating harshly against his chest wall the whole time he was making his way once again in the direction of the guest bedroom. He had to battle with himself in order to refrain from running and, instead, continue to deliver the blessing, along with regular splashes of Holy Water. His teachings promised that, if he repeated the invocation a total of nine times, then the might of the Archangel Michael would be with him and would stay by his side, lending his power and strength for the battle ahead. Firm in his belief and in his faith, Father Hanrahan was completely ignorant of the fact that Michael was unable to respond to anything other than his one companion, trapped as he was in a cage, alongside Lucifer. It wasn't actually until he stopped at the door to the guest room and reached for the doorknob that he realised that the bell had stopped ringing.

-o-

Sam frowned while he slept. Deep within the cortex of his brain, his instincts tugged at him, cried out to him, demanded he notice them. Within his dream, Sam turned away, ignoring them, much preferring to continue sitting and watching the pretty blond girl chatting amongst a group of her girl friends. He loved the way she threw her head back whenever she laughed. And the girl, he thought her name was Jessica, laughed a lot. Suddenly his view of the girl was completely blocked, and he stared upwards, intending to tell the owner of the denim clad legs to move on, only the words died on his lips.

 _"_ _C'mon Sammy, pay attention dude."_

-o-

Whatever it was he had been dreaming about had faded from his mind, floating away like a soap bubble on a breeze, and his eyes gradually blinked half open. It took him a moment to start to arrange his thoughts before he could recall where he was. There was a weight on his chest, not heavy. Peering at himself, Sam made two passes at the Bible with his hand before he managed to home in on the real one out of the three images his sleep blurred eyes were seeing. His mouth and throat felt horrible, unnaturally dry. Twisting his head, he couldn't see anyone else close by. His puzzled gaze roamed slowly over numerous sheets of paper and documentation, some typed, some full of handwriting, some that looked like building plans, all for some reason scattered about the floor. He was trying to work out what they were and why they might have been so carelessly thrown around, when a man's cry, wordless and yet filled with devastation and anguish, pierced through the fog of Sam's mind, sending him quickly and automatically to his feet. He knew the sound didn't come from his brother, he always recognised the sound of Dean, so that left either Father Hanrahan or Daniel.

-o-

Sam's brain now woke up to the fact that he was standing, and promptly had a word with his ears, who eagerly threw his sense of balance out of kilter. Sam was helpless to stop himself from wobbling and tottering to one side, then tottering back again as though the floor was rising and falling beneath his feet. Adding to the effect of him being at sea was the wave of nausea and the spinning sensation in his head. Sam locked his knees and grabbed hold of the sofa back, waiting for the spinning to subside before he dared try any further forward motion. Setting off again, he continued to veer drunkenly from side to side, his progress slowed further by him slipping and sliding over the loose sheets of paper scattered randomly along his route. When he finally exited the room, it was to the sound of a man repeatedly begging _No!_ Sam let the heartbroken sound be his compass and he stumbled towards it, helping himself stay in a mostly straight line by keeping one hand against the wall.

-oOo-  
Chick xxx  
 _Special hug for Janiekm :)_


	11. Chapter 11

_Oh boy, "Guest" is mad at me too. Think I'm gonna crawl away and hide in shame :(  
_ **Chapter 11  
** -oOo-

Balancing precariously on his right knee, Dean put his left foot flat to the ground. Forming a fist, he took a deep breath and punched his left hand hard into the heavy clay soil at shoulder height. Grunting, twisting and pushing, he forcibly drilled into the cold and clammy side of the clay pit side, burying his hand to beyond his wrist within the cloying soil. Readying himself to get to his feet, Dean utilised his own hand and wrist like a rock climber's crampon. Pushing up from the ground with his left foot, he created a brief moment in which he could pull himself upwards at the same time. The pressure from his hand bearing down quickly compressed and displaced the clay immediately beneath it, losing Dean his purchase. It didn't matter. He'd had enough pull and push to make it upright without having to utilise either his right arm or leg. Leaning his back against the wall, he flicked the Zippo. Wet, dirty, bone tired, freezing, suffering varying degrees of hurt, he gazed along the clay sides both left and right, looking for anything that might constitute an exit.

-o-

He grimaced when he spotted the unsettling sight of half a rib section and the curve of part of a human pelvic bone jutting out from the clay, two thirds of the way up the wall. As freaky as it looked, it's presence provided Dean with valuable information, he knew exactly where he was; under the church graveyard, six feet and then some. The wood of the skeleton's coffin had long since rotted and fallen apart, no doubt dropping down to become part of the quagmire that was the cavern flooring. Dean also realised he hadn't heard the bell ring for a while, it seemed to have done it's thing, for now. About to close the Zippo, Dean's eye's were drawn to a spot below the bony ceiling decoration, where the ground area curved up to become the pit's side. Squinting at the area, his spirits lifted. By the meagre flame's dim light, he saw a fair sized black patch, potentially the entrance of a tunnel. Flicking off the lighter, he twisted to the left and prepared himself. He needed _two_ legs to walk, and if that black patch was his way out, he was damn well gonna use both of them, fracture or no fracture.

-o-

If proof were needed, the slicing agony that centred on his ankle but was also keen to explore around the rest of Dean's foot as well as taking a tour up his leg confirmed his earlier self diagnosis. He _had_ fractured his ankle, and fairly badly if the level of pain was a marker. He couldn't afford to let it stop him however and so, reminding himself that he had experienced far worse agonies and survived, Dean began to make halting, pain filled progress towards the area of deep shadow he had seen in the dirt wall. Progress was both excruciating and excruciatingly slow, but it was the best he could manage, and so he accepted it as being way better than nothing.

-o-

As Sam got closer, the _no_ 's turned into the man's voice pleading _Please no...Not like this_. Sam knew he wasn't up to speed, he was needed but hadn't considered weapons and his jacket had been removed at some point, he supposed by Father Hanrahan or Daniel who were probably trying to be helpful. Remembering the stiletto he had slipped inside his boot, Sam reached down, and found that too had been taken, though he had no idea when. He desperately wanted the opportunity to splash cold water onto his face in an effort to straighten his head, and he craved a cool drink to ease the uncomfortable dryness in his mouth and throat. Turning onto a narrow corridor, the voice Sam had placed as Father Hanrahan's became a plea of _Get away from him. Leave him alone_. Sam recognised the corridor as the one leading to the guest bedroom. Peering ahead, he saw light coming from the open doorway into his and Dean's room. He heard Father Hanrahan inside, shouting at someone to _Keep back! In God's name I command you; keep back!_

-o-

Clinging onto the door frame, Sam couldn't fully make sense of what he was seeing inside the room and he shook his head roughly, trying to loosen any particle of the fog clogging up his thoughts. Father Hanrahan was standing with his back to Sam, holding up a small crucifix and reciting the Lord's prayer in a quaking voice. Beyond him, on the floor between the end of the furthest bed away from Sam and the bathroom door, was what looked at first to Sam like some crazy, charcoal grey, pop up and crawl in dome shaped tent, that was twitching and gyrating as if being battered by the wind. Sam decided if it _was_ a tent, then it _had_ to be possessed. Alternatively, there was a giant bat on the floor hiding beneath it's own wings. Sam went with the latter.

-o-

Knowing he was almost certain to startle the priest and possibly attract the creature's attention, Sam resisted the urge to tap on the man's shoulder. Instead he moved slowly into Father Hanrahan's peripheral vision hoping to reduce the priest's reaction and taking care to leave a little space between them. Although the Father noticeably tensed and turned instantly, he continued saying his prayer. As soon as he saw it was Sam that was at his side, his body visibly sagged with relief. The man flicked his eyes to the giant pair of bat wings and then stared into Sam's. The Father's eyes were red rimmed, swimming in tears. They held terror and sorrow, they were eyes that had been forced to see beyond the veil, straight into the Hell created by Lucifer. Completing the Lord's prayer and without pausing after his _Amen._ The Father urgently whispered " _It has Daniel's body under there."_

-o-

The shock generated by the hurried news was like being hit a powerful blow to the sternum and, for a moment, Sam unintentionally held his breath. He had a lifetime of both seeing _and_ being the cause of deaths too numerable to keep track of anymore. Despite this, there were still some deaths which effected him strongly and which he struggled to accept. Like the death of those people who could, simply by their presence, manage to light up the whole room, and make the dullest of days so much brighter. Individuals who were very much like Dean, and like Daniel was in life. Sam constantly struggled with the knowledge that even the Daniels of this world could be there, and then suddenly not; wiped out in an instant. It felt unfair and underhand. Fury followed hot on the heels of Sam's shock at Daniel's death, and his thoughts instantly turned crystal clear. Using hand signals, he described his intention to the Father, and what he needed the Father to do. The priest nodded his understanding of his role; keep back but, if seen or needed, attract the creature's attention and keep it off Sam.

-o-

Although he nodded, Father Hanrahan actually had no intention of keeping back, not now he'd made the decision to actively join in the fight. Sam needed the creature's attention to be elsewhere while he made his move, and the Father intended to make certain that happened. In a loud and authoritative voice, Father Hanrahan began to recite the litany of Saints, and beginning to stride purposefully towards the creature huddled on the floor over the body of the housekeeper, while again removing the lid from his flask of Holy water.

"Holy Mother of God, Holy Virgin of virgins, St. Michael, St. Gabriel, St. Raphael, All holy angels and archangels, All holy orders of blessed spirits, St. John the Baptist, St. Joseph, All holy patriarchs and prophets, St. Peter,St. Paul,St. Andrew,St. James, , ...

Seeing the priest walking right up to the creature, Sam hesitated for less than a breath, then began to move, not wanting to waste the opportunity the priest offered.

-o-

Switching off as much as he could from the risk Father Hanrahan had decided to take, Sam first silently made for the nearest bed to the door. Were they in a motel, it would be Dean's bed. Here though, Dean had chosen the bed nearest the window, that being the easiest way for anything to get into their room, as the current unwanted occupant had proven. Sam imagined the full on laughter and the sheer delight that would have shone on his older brother's face had he been there to witness Sam undertaking a "stealth crawl" across his mattress, pausing when it creaked, then swiftly crossing the gap between their two beds, before hitting stealth crawl mode again in order to cross over Dean's bed. The fact that it was the only route that enabled Sam to stay on the creature's blindside and get to the weapons bag wouldn't have stopped the whole "Mission Impossible" scenario from being hilrious to Dean. Sam held onto the image he had conjured of his older brother being teary eyed with laughter while he squatted down at the side of his brother's bed. Reaching underneath, Sam retrieved one of the two kit bags containing weapons which were still under there.

-o-

Dean took a short break, allowing himself the opportunity to lift his tortured left foot up off the ground, trying to garner some momentary relief from the searing Hell fire of constant pain that walking on the badly broken ankle caused. He decided to risk using the Zippo to check how far he had yet to go before he reached his goal. Flicking the Zippo into life, without thinking Dean automatically dropped his foot flat to the floor as he attempted to back up fast, wanting to move out of range of the hands that were reaching out for him. The sudden movement and shift in direction caused his shattered ankle to turn, collapsing beneath him, and throwing Dean completely off balance.

-o-

Fully expecting to meet his end, the priest, calmly and without fear, stood himself directly in front of the continuously quivering wings, leaving a mere six inches of floor space seperating himself and the supernatural creature. Breaking off from the litany and with a solid flick of his wrist, Father Hanrahan launched the remaining contents from his own flask of Holy water over the unnatural monster's wings, at the same time bellowing at it,

 _"_ _ **Look**_ _at me! Damn you!_ _ **Look. At. Me!**_ _"_

The wings started to lift when the creature began to rise and in turn, each separating from it's counterpart. As the creature reached her full hieght, she proudly spread her magnificent wings out to their fullest until, finally, the priest was able to see the whole of the supernatural creature for the first time. Father Hanrahan's breath caught in his throat as he looked on the face of the female. He couldn't believe it...Didn't _want_ to believe that a creature so beautiful as she, could be so hianouse. This terrible, murdrous being had, somehow, been blessed with a beauty so breathtaking, so ethereal, surely this _had_ to be the face of an angel? The priest's blue grey eyes met hers of silver and he was entranced.

-o-

Behind the creature of grace, the priest noted a flicker of movement, a sign that Sam was moving, closing in putting himself in a position to strike. With a heavy heart and while he still had that brief moment of opportunity, the priest whispered one word.

" _Why_?"

She didn't speak. Instead, she looked down at Daniel and, captivated, the priest followed her gaze. Suddenly he found himself sitting on the floor, his knees having taken it on themselves to do a surprise _exit stage right_ , removing their support and leaving the priest to collapse to the floor, a pair of sleepy human brown eyes tracking his descent.

"Oops _allfalldown_!"

The priest forced himself to push through his shock and bullied his vocal chords into working.

" _Sam!_ **_Stop_** _!_ _ **Don't!**_ "

-o-

Starting to fall, Dean fumbled for his penknife. Before he hit the floor, he twisted his body to land on his back. The female was on him almost instantly, pinning Dean's upper body with her knee, one hand squeezing his dislocated shoulder in a forceful grip, forcing a holler of pain from the Hunter. Her other hand grabbed hold of a fist full of his hair, twisting her fingers through it and jerking his head to one side. Bringing her face closer to his, her tongue licked over his cheek.

"Mmmmmm. How would you like me to clean you up all over like this?"

"How would you like me to tear your freakin' wings off?"

Dean felt the succubus untangle her fingers from his hair in order to press her forearm firmly across his throat.

"Have you got the faintest notion of what I can do to you, human?"

Dean's answer came as a choking croak.

"Nothin' that hasn't been tried by way classier scum than _you,_ bitch."

The succubus smiled sweetly, and drove her knee harder into his sternum. Using the pain she caused as if it was a flame to the fuel, Dean answered by driving the penknife upwards, as hard and fast as he could.

-o-

Sam was good. He was _outstandingly_ good, and he could easily have pulled the blow he was about to deliver, or diverted the dagger's blade harmlessly away from the creature had he wanted to. He had to make a snap decision, and he chose not to lose the advantage he had, experience telling him that the priest had already fallen prey to the glamour cast by the succubus. His target was the centre of the creature's spine, and he threw the whole of his body weight behind the well aimed, rage driven thrust. The impact was like trying to run an eighteen wheeler off the highway using a push bike. The blade snapped, and kinetic energy sent innumerable arrows of red hot, paralysing, pain shooting from wrist to elbow while giving Sam no opportuniy to avoid a full body collision into the back of the creature.

-o-

With a serpentine hiss, the creature spun around faster than Sam could draw breath, and wrapped her strong arms around his upper body, making Sam cry out as ribs instantly snapped like match sticks within her supernaturally powerful embrace. On the fringes of his world of pain, there was a voice somewhere begging _Stop, don't hurt him_. Unable to breathe, Sam's vision blurred then, unexpectedly, the crushing pressure eased. Sam moaned aloud, excruciating pain hindering his desperate attempts to fill his lungs with air. Through tear filled eye's he saw the female's head lift and tilt, as if she was hearing something beyond the voice pleading on his behalf, then Sam's world shifted swiftly and sickeningly, his oxygen starved body lax as it flew through the air.

-oOo-  
Chick xx ;P


	12. Chapter 12

**Does anyone know whether the Vatican hires spell casters? _*Kiddin' - Honest*  
_** From the "Litany of Saints" part of this fic, my spell checker playing hard to get, & I have mild Dyslexia! Also finding it hard to save alterations & edits. Oh, and finding some paragraphs have repeated themselves, slotting in at random points when I next open the fic up to work on it (in fact typing this sentance, _half_ of it decided to slot itself in to a couple of lines back, as well as repeat itself while I'm still typing it) All problems localised to this fic only (Gulp) My tech friendly other half at a loss. So, in order to continue posting, am having to put this out warts and all while trying to figure out out to fix things. **SORRY.**

 _Also, apologies for letting people think Daniel had gone, couldn't give the plot away though, could I?:D_

 **Chapter 12  
** -oOo-

A wail from the creature told Dean he had made an impression, withdrawing the short blade, he stabbed upwards again, and again he sank the penknife into the Succubus. The pressure across his throat lifted, and a punch snapped his head to one side, bringing with it the tang of blood from the new split in his top lip. Dean didn't hesitate to drive the blade up a third time, it's momentum abruptly halted by the hand that latched onto his wrist, catching him by surprise. Lightening fast, the female yanked the direction of the thrust around, 180 degrees.

-o-

Dean took a swift, deep intake of air as the knife's blade slid into him. Neatly hitting a pressure point, the creature forced Dean to let go of the penknife. Pulling it out of Dean's side, she pressed the edge of the bloodied blade against his throat. Soft lips kissed his forehead. In contrast to her gentle action, the voice that spoke close to his ear was filled with anger and venom.

"Know this. When you have given me what I need, then I will go on to finish you. Your handsome face? This body of yours? I promise you, it shall be _nothing,_ save a wasted and dried up husk; recognisable to _no one_."

Closing his eyes, Dean mentally catalogued the new area of damage alongside the rest, grateful it wasn't giving him much pain currently and hoping the blade hadn't pierced anything vital. Trying to control his breathing, he gave a choked laugh.

"Not tonight, you bottom feeding scavenger, I gotta killer headache."

A glow through his eyelids had Dean opening his eyes to find the immediate area lit by the soft light of the Succubus' glamour. Staring up at her, his eyes widened in surprise. The face he was looking at was not the one he had expected to see.

" _Horns_...You're the window freak...Where's the pretty one? I want _her_ , not the ugly sister...Gimme an exchancge or a refund."

The Succubus glared down at him, her eyes flashing with anger, blazing lava red.

" _There is only me_! But, I know of _your_ companion. Already I have sought him out, and killed the imposter I found asleep in the bed. Know this, I _will_ take him. Perhaps he will be more obliging than you; do you think?"

-o-

Father Hanrahan stood rooted to the spot, a centre of stillness while the world he knew tore apart around him. The black haired woman had turned away from them all and moved to the open window. Seeing that she was intending to leave was like ice cold water pouring down his back and, almost without thinking, the priest ran to her, throwing himself between her and the window, holding his hands up in front of her, as if he would physically hold her at bay.

" _Wait_! Sweet Angel of the Lord, In His name, I _beg_ you. stop. Please, don't leave, don't turn your back on my friend. I will do anything you demand of me Angel, _anything_ just, in the name of our God, _please_ Divine One. Forgive him. Help him. He did not recognise you as I do...Punish _me_ instead if you must."

Silver eyes gazed down at the pale face of the trembling and emotionally over wrought priest who didn't care anymore about the tears streaming freely down his face. The focus of her gaze shifted, to the silver crucifix hung around his neck, and from there to the purple stole, coming to rest on it's embroidered cross. Another brief glance back at the face of the distressed priest and she turned her head to stare instead at Sam.

-o-

Unaware of Father Hanrahan's pleas on his behalf, Sam laid in an untidy sprawl where he had landed, his eyes half open but unseeing. Blood flowed sluggishly from his previous head wound, now re-opened. Other narrow rivulets of blood had begun to lethargically leak from his ears and nose. His slack lips were coloured dark blue, his body having all but lost the battle to breathe, one lung having collapsed and the other barely functioning. Each small exhalation produced a fine spray of blood. The Father clutched at his crucifx, seeing his Angel appear hesitant, unsure what to do. A second voice added it's soft plea to the priest's.

"You c'n do it lady. You c'n fix him, like you fixed me. Please. Fix him?"

The creature looked to where Daniel lie watching, weak but alive. Father Hanrahan bowed his head, muttering a quiet prayer of thanks when, after a final glance at the priest, she took two graceful strides over to Sam and knelt at his side.

-o-

Father Hanrahan watched, mesmerised, believing in his heart that he was witnessing a second true miracle when the female placed a flat palm on Sam's chest. Bending over the dieing Hunter, her lips hovered above his, not quite touching, and she blew softly, once, over his mouth. Rising to her feet and turning in one silken ripple of motion, she faced Father Hanrahan again, looking from him to the window, her message clear. She had done all she intended, and now she was leaving. Father Hanrahan sank to his knees as she drew level with him.

" _Thank you_ Divine One. With all my mortal soul, thank you for your blessings."

And then she was gone.

-o-

"Father? Did you allfalldown again? Why'm I on the floor? Did she kill the mean one? What's wrong with Sam? Can I have a glass of water? My throat hurrr _Oh_!.. _Ooohh!._.. ** _Bum_** **!** Did I? Was I?...I _did_...I went an wossited... _Didn't_ I? _Father_...Gonna puke..."

-o-

Daniel's voice was far huskier than normal for him, and the priest could see two dark thumb shaped bruises at his throat. He knew without looking that the back of his housekeeper's neck would also heavily marked with finger pattern bruises. Despite these after effects of his experience, Daniel's habit of firing off a number of questions at once clearly remained fully functional, coming to a semi projectile ending when the younger man suddenly thought, asked about, and then finally answered, his own question. Torn and struggling to decide who he should go to first, Father Hanrahan glanced at Sam, seeing the steady rise and fall of his chest. Satisfied the Hunter was able to breathe, he moved quickly to Daniel, afraid the housekeepers sudden pallor and the obvious tremor coursing throughout his body might quickly turn to a full blown shock reaction; particularly in view of Daniel's realisation that he had suffered substantially more than your average _near_ death experience!

-o-

"Daniel. Look at me...Now! That's it, focus on me. You're fine my son. You're fine. I need you to control your breathing. Come on, in...And out...In...And out. Good, keep breathing at that pace while I get something to keep you warm...In...And out...In...And out. Good work...Here. Let's get this wrapped around you. No...Stay where you are, that's a good lad...Hush...No more talking yet, just breathing. Nice and steady, nice and steady. Think about our Lord, Christ. He coped just fine with this situation, didn't He?"

There was a few seconds contemplative silence from Daniel, then he wailed, " _Father..._ Am I the Second Coming?"

Father Hanaran baulked.

" _Good_ Heavens!...I _do_ hope not!"

-o-

Anger, frustration, fear. Powerful emotions all clamouring to be first, tripping over each other, crashing into one another, tumbling, swirling, rising like a fast, incoming tide. She had gone after Sammy. This low life, cow horned, piece of shit had killed someone _Who?_ because they weren't Sam. She'd run those ugly assed red eyes over his baby brother and she wanted him, wanted to mess with him, would kill him. Dean knew she was already wounded, he could smell her blood _Or was that his own?_ If he didn't have what it took to kill her himself, he could certainly try to hurt her some more, weaken her, make sure Sammy's odds of finishing the bitch were pretty much unbeatable. If he only achieved _that_ much, it would do for Dean.

-o-

Were will-power a muscle, then Dean would have ripped it with the strain of stopping himself reacting instantly to the creature's threats against his brother and, instead, forcing his whole body to relax beneath the Succubus. Half closing his eyes, changing the sound of his breathing, he did whatever he could to create the impression that he had lost the energy and the drive to fight back; to make this thing think he was ripe for the picking.

-o-

Father Hanrahan felt the strong urge to both laugh hysterically, and to shiver with trepidation at his housekeeper's most recent, jawdropping, question. He couldn't imagine how Daniel must be feeling, knowing he had been killed and yet here he was, alive again. _Resurrected by an Angel no less_ Maybe not immediatly, but once the enormity of what had happened to Daniel _really_ hit the younger man, the priest expected there may be quite a traumatic break down to follow. In the priest's own mind, what he had witnessed was so explosive, so faith affirming, he wondered why half the Vatican, including the Holy Father himself, weren't battering at his church door already? The Father's focus was drawn back to the here and now by an irritated exclamation by the younger man.

"What _are_ you doing Daniel?"

"Wanna check Sam...Stuck, wrapped up like a caterpillar inna coccoon! Help?"

" _You_ need to rest, keep warm. _I'll_ go make sure Sam's alright."

"I _am_ warm and rested. _Honest._ Listen! See? My sore throat's getting better already."

Father Hanrahan sighed, knowing there was little point arguing. While he untucked Daniel the sound of movement and a low groan drew both men's attention across to Sam. Having coming round enough to find himself able to breathe, Sam had rolled himself onto his side and was now attempting to push himself up into a seated position while staring around the room.

"Has she gone?"

-o-

Quickly getting to his feet, the priest hurried to the Hunter's side and knelt down. Helping the younger man to sit up properly, he noticed Sam wince.

"The Angel healed you and left straight afterwards. I suspect that, like Daniel, the remaining pains you can still feel will soon begin to fade."

Wrapping one arm around himself , Sam nodded his understanding before bowing his head, unhappy that he was about to dissappoint the priest.

"Father?...I'm sorry...That thing wasn't an angel...Somethin' else. Not sure what, but I have'ta hunt it down...It could lead me to Dean."

-o-

Daniel appeared at the Father's side as he contemplated Sam. Glancing up at Daniel, Father Hanrahan immediately noticed the lack of bruising to the housekeeper's neck, the rate of continued recovery astounding the Priest. _Sam's wrong, he_ _ **has**_ _to be._ _Surely only a divine being could achieve this?_

"Daniel? Do you feel up to telling Sam and myself what you meant when you asked me if she had _killed the mean one_?"

Sam's head snapped up and he stared at the housekeeper.

" _What_? Daniel? Talk to me!... _Is_ there actually _two_ of these things?"

Daniel's wide eyed gaze flicked between the two men who were staring back at him expectantly.

"You didn't know? Yes, there's two; it's the _other_ one that...Hurt me."

-oOo-  
Chick xxx _Again, sorry about my spelling, hope it wasn't too appallingly distracting._


	13. Chapter 13

_Sorry for the delay in posting, the battle I'm having with this fic and it's strange behaviours continue and,  
_ _in fact,_ _are getting worse._ _So, once again I aplogise for my dire spelling and all other errors I will have made._

 **Chapter 13**

-oOo-

Sat in the kitchen Sam was drinking his second glass of water, reassured that his dry mouth was simply another side effect from the pills he'd been given, and listening to how Daniel awoke to the nightmare of being strangled.

"It was all a bit frantic, what with the fighting for my life and all, but I _guarantee_ it was a different one. She had long dark hair like the other, but her eyes were evil, and red; I don't think it was coloured contact lenses. And there was cleavage...Acres and acres of it. Didn't do much for me, 'though I do remember thinking the in between bit would've made a good spot for parking my push bike...Sorry Father... _And_ she broke the dress code too! Bad guys should wear black, shouldn't they? _Not_ white. How's anyone supposed to know who's who if the baddies don't wear black? Also, _I_ don't think she was _half_ as pretty as the one in the bluey colour, and the bluey one doesn't have those icky mutant devil horns either."

Sam nodded, recognising the creature Daniel was describing.

"Thanks Dann-o, and you're right. I'd already wondered, and you've just confirmed, we have at _least_ two supernatural creatures here."

Daniel squeaked at Sam's words, then challenged him.

"At _least_? Wha'd'yumean _At least_? Are _At least's_ allowed even? Aren't there some sort of monster's rules banning it? You know...Like that Jehova Convention?"

The priest's shoulders shook and he laughed aloud, appreciating the delight of having Daniel back with the living and still able to be so, _Daniel_! He patted the housekeeper's shoulder in a _There,_ _there_ fashion.

"I think, son, you mean the _Genever_ _Convention_. Whole different thing."

Smiling at Daniel's indignant expression at the awful idea that there might, on occasions, be more than a maximum of two monsters at a time. Sam made a mental note never to discuss Vampire nests with the housekeeper.

"The one you describe as having horns? She perfectly fits the description of a Succubus _...And,_ before you ask; a Succubus is always female. They can shapeshift using a thing call "glamour", most often they have one preferred alternative form, and they _always_ target men, drawing off them what they need the most...Specifically, the man's sperm."

Daniel stared at Sam slack jawed.

-o-

"The other creature, the one in blue that you, Father, thought was an angel? I'm afraid I still don't know _what_ she is. Which means, I don't know the specific way to kill her, so I'll need a selection of weapons...Right...This next part's _very_ important. If I'm not back by...Lets say four pm today?...Then something's gone wrong, most likely, we're both dead. Please don't think maybe you should give us more time. _Four p.m._ No later. If we don't make it, there's things I will need you to do. _First_ , gather our belongings together and hide them. _Next_. Ring Garth. Tell him _everythin'_. Chances are he'll want to send in more Hunters, let him. They'll look for our bodies and get rid of any remains. Show them where our stuff is, they'll clear out any sign we were ever here...Dean's car...Father? Can you tell them she's... _it's_...to be taken to Garth's place, _undamaged_...There's a friend of ours, I know Dean would want him to have her, he'll collect it from Garth...Ok, soon as they've done what they need and gone, you contact your church authorities and you tell them _everything_ about the supernatural activity, show them the recordin', tell them that Daniel was attacked. Get them to take this seriously, even if it means closin' the place down. _Don't_ try hidin' it from them and waitin' it out! It's too dangerous, understand? Now, last bit...This' for Dean, and me Father. I'm gonna leave you a number for if we don't make it. It's for the friend who'll get the car...His name's Castiel."

-o-

Father Hanrahan who had been listening with his head bowed, suddenly looked up and focused on Sam's face searchingly, giving him a hard, narrow eyed look. Sam gave the briefest shake of his head, his eyes flicking to Daniel and back. The priest's eyes widened, and he hurriedly bowed his head again.

"He's not really tec minded, and he's got his own things to deal with, so you might have to call him a few times before you get an answer. Can you tell him what's happened to us?...And please...Tell him...Tell him Deans car is his now and where he can pick her up. You might need to give him Garth's number...That's it. That's pretty much everythin'. Um...Any idea where my jacket is?"

Daniel stood up, his expression unreadable.

"Stop here. I'll go get it for you."

-o-

Once Daniel left the kitchen, Sam spoke up quickly, before the priest could jump in.

"He's more human than anythin' now. He's just Cas. It's how it is. Understand?"

A look of confusion flashed across Father Hanrahan's features.

"Actually no, I _don't_ understand how a divine being becomes mostly human, but I _do_ hear what you're saying. And Sam? I very much hope I _don't_ have reason to speak with him."

-o-

When Daniel walked back into the kitchen, Sam stared at him.

"Here you go Sam. Your stuff's still in the pockets."

"Thanks...And the other coats you've got with you?"

"What about them? It's chilly at night you know. I'm not going out there without a coat on! Here Father, I brought yours too. Oh, and I've put your gloves in one of your pockets in case you need them."

"Why _thank_ you Daniel! That's very thoughtful of you."

Sam shook his head, glaring at both the priest and the housekeeper.

"Oh no...No! You two are staying _here_!"

Father Hanrahan stared right back at the Hunter, unimpressed by the younger man's glare.

"Sam, I hate pointing this out to you, but, I'm afraid you don't have the authority to make that decision for us. There's safety in numbers, so Daniel and I are coming with you. We might not be Hunters, but there still has to be ways in which we can help, things we can do to share out the load?"

Daniel nodded his agreement, smiling.

"There is! There's a whole _load_ of things we could do! I've already thought of some. Like, we can be your lookouts, or we can create a diversion if you need one, or do bird calls, or even just carry stuff for you."

Father Hanrahan added a further suggestion, his tone sombre, his expression serious.

"And, if necessary... The two of us will be there with you, to help carry Dean."

Daniel's smile ebbed away.

"Um, yeah...We'll do that too Sam. It would be an honour... _If_ needed...Which it _won't_ be. I'm _sure_...Whatever, you're stuck with us."

Sam stared sadly down at the floor, then nodded, looking up again he gave the two older men a weak smile.

"Seems I wasted my breath giving you all those instructions!...Ok, lets get you geared up."

-o-

Daniel gazed at the blade in his hand that Sam had insisted he carry. In his experience, knives were for chopping and cutting food, _not_ for potentially having to stick into monsters that shouldn't exist, and hadn't done so in his life until meeting Sam and Dean. Daniel simply couldn't envisage himself using the weapon in any kind of offensive way, and he didn't think he would need them to protect himself, he already had a defensive strategy worked out. It involved his legs and it was called _running._..Really, really _fast_ running...Possibly with some free range screaming thrown in just for good measure.

"Daniel? You ready?"

The housekeeper glanced up to find Sam regarding him with something that wasn't quite pure sympathy, more of a sympathetic concern. Daniel answered him with lighthearted honesty.

"No...But I'll be right behind you anyway...And I _do_ mean _right_ behind you...Hiding."

Sam went along with Daniel's attempt at light heartedness, feigning disappointment.

"Really? That's too bad...'Cos _I_ was plannin' on bein' behind _you_!"

Daniel gazed at Sam, a deadpan expression on his face.

"You _were_?.. _._ Oh!...Well; y'know? Any _other_ time..."

-o-

Father Hanrahan pretended not to have heard Daniel's rejoinder, testing again the weight and feel of the length of iron bar he had agreed to carry, on the grounds that it was viewed as a "blunt" weapon and, back in the day, it would have been an acceptable weapon in the eyes of the church for men of the cloth to use in battle. Father Hanrahan had never previously seen himself as a fighter. But something evil was lurking around _his_ church, and he had no intention of following in the footsteps of Father Ipswich, _May you rest easier_ _once this night is over my friend_. With a nod from Sam; the Hunter, flanked by his two unlikely sidekicks, exited the lodgings and they determinedly made their way to the graveyard.

-o-

Entering the graveyard Sam didn't hesitate, and he began making directly for the ruins as, so far, they appeared to be the primary focus for face to face encounters. He also felt that if Dean was anywhere, it was likely to be closer to there than anywhere else. He was hoping to have the opportunity to demand answers from the unfamiliar creature that Daniel referred to as the good "Angel" type. Given Sam's own recollection of his personal encounter in the guest room, he was struggling to label the silver eye'd one as "good". In Sam's mind it was a monster that both could, and had proven it _would_ , kill. His evidence being that, if the thing hadn't gone so far as to crush and collapse his rib cage in the first place, then healing him wouldn't have been necessary.

-o-

Close to the open area of the ruins, Sam paused, waiting for the Father and Daniel to catch up. As soon as they were within low voice earshot, Sam whispered instructions to them.

"I want us to seperate and check round the outer edge of the ruins. You two move clockwise, I'll go anti-clockwise an' meet up with you in the middle. If you spot anything out the ordinary, signal me somehow. Use your bird call if you must, but don't do anythin' till I'm there. Alright?"

Daniel half raised one hand.

"What bird should I do?"

Sam hitched one eyebrow.

"What? _How should_...? Look, you can do a Drop Kicking Do-do if you want, just _signal_ me. Ready?

The two men nodded at him, accepting their given task without further question. Watching them set off together, Sam was sure he heard Daniel saying to the priest _Wonder what sound a drop kicked Do-do would make?_ He didn't catch the priest's response. Sam sighed to himself, very aware that both men had placed their trust in him to keep them safe. It felt like a very heavy burden to carry and, for maybe the four hundred thousandth time since John Winchester died, his thoughts went to Dean and the burden their father had placed on his older brother. Throwing the thought back in it's box, Sam himself moved off, counter clockwise to the priest and the housekeeper, all his senses alert to anything that might lead him to his older brother.

-o-

Walking side by side as soundlessly as they could, the Father and Daniel both scanned the ground all around constantly, dilligently searching for a something that could be termed "anything out of the ordinary". Daniel smiled to himself grimly, thinking _Well, that's obviously me then. I'm_ _ **wayyy**_ _out of the ordinary._ _I've been dead_ _but now I'm back. Oooo!_... _Heck! I could be walking round right now being a_ _real life_ _Zombie and none of us know it! Ok, calm down. Just need to check it out...Um...Oh, gottit!_ He took a prolonged sideways glance at the priest, finally looking sway again and smiling happily. _Nahhh, s'ok. I've not been Zombiefied. Father Hanrahan didn't make me feel the slightest bit hungry. Not even peckish...Hello! What're_ _ **you**_ _doing here?_

-o-

The priest halted a couple of steps beyond Daniel, realising the younger man had dropped behind. He watched while his housekeeper picked something up off the ground. Silently, Daniel held up a white feather, patterned with dotted black lines, for the Father to see. The priest shrugged, giving Daniel an enquiring look. Daniel helped him out by twirling his forefinger in the air, then pointing to the feather and firmly shaking his head no. Father Hanrahan stared up through the trees into the sky. Daniel waffed a hand in front of the Father's eyes, drawing the man's attention back to himself and, slower this time, repeated his little charade. He rolled his eyes when the priest promptly looked upward again.. Prodding the priest in his shoulder to make him look down, Daniel beckoned the man closer and leaned in to whisper in his ear.

"Snowy owl. Shouldn't be in this area. Way too far south. Maybe nothing to do with anything much, but Sam didn't say what kind of _anythingoutoftheordinary_ he meant did he? This' _definitly_ an _anythingoutoftheordinary_ though...Can I signal? I think I ought to signal him...Ok, I'll signal."

-o-

At the third call of a seemingly nocturnal Cookoo, Sam finally realised he was being signalled and, with a despairing shake of his head, he increased his speed. He moved quickly around the perimeter of the ruins, passing around the back of them and continuing on until he saw Father Hanrahan and Daniel steadily picking their way in his direction. As the three came together, Daniel held out a feather to Sam. Taking it, Sam stared in bemusement at the feather, then at Daniel. Daniel moved closer and went on tiptoe to whisper his explination into Sam's ear. Staring at the feather, Sam recalled the huge white owl that swooped over his and Dean's head the first time they walked through the graveyard, and the feather didn't seem so unconnected anymore, especially given Daniel's description of his so called _Mean one._ Add in an ability to shapeshift, and it pretty much meant that she couldn't be anything _but_ a succubus. He grinned at Daniel.

"Nicely spotted! I think this came from the creature who strangled you. I'm betting she shape-shifts into a snowy owl."

Both Father Hanrahan and Daniel stared at Sam and the feather in amazement.

-o-

Having felt the fight go out of her victim's body, the creature eased herself down Dean until her face was level with the bleeding wound. Dean's breath hitched in the back of his throat as her sharp teeth anchored into the flesh surrounding the puncture wound and her tongue explored inside the injury, lapping at his blood. Her first taste of him caused her to whine both in surprise and delight and she briefly pulled away from him to stare at the blood streaming from the area. She had never tasted anything like this one. She knew instantly that this human had lived a life like no other she had claimed, he had been touched by forces outside the realm of humans, consistantly. He was a joy. The Succubus lifted her head, glorying in the taste and texture of the blood, her enjoyment awakening her nature's other desires. She ran one hand over Dean's cheek, sliding it from there down to his chest, pausing over his heart, feeling the occasional small flutterings interspersing the faster than normal beats. Pushing beneath the sodden tee, she slowly let her hand roam over his stomach, then rub across the crotch of his denims, finally leaving it resting on the human's thigh, while her feeding grew more noisy and frenzied. She unconcsiously began grinding her body into Dean's, starting to lose her control.

-o-

Dean was unable to decide whether his nausea and the growing sense of his brain being gradually replaced with cotton balls was real or imagined. What he _did_ know was that he had to take action, while he still could. He forced himself to focus on what he was about to do, his only hopes of getting through it himself being that either he was able to garner the strength to move out of the way fast, or that the Succubus herself moved off him. Otherwise, he figured he was pretty much screwed. He decided that if he _did_ end up stuck, it didn't really matter; so long as he was able to cause some serious hurt to this bitch. Neither Dean nor the succubus were aware they were being observed.

-o-

Gazing into the hidden place from within the tunnel, silver eyes glittered diamond hard and a cold, dreadful wrath lodged in the place where her heart would be, were she encumbered by one. She had come in response to the sound of pain, and her focus was now fixed entirely on the cause. Here would be a good place to challenge the interloper, while it's opportunities to flee were limited. Innate higher sensory awareness sought out signs of life within the human male pinned beneath the vile thing who moved over him like a rutting pig, and she sensed the human start to move, haltingly but with intent. Silver eyes flashed in anticipation, eager to deliver the killing blow she intended to inflict on the base and loathsome thief.

-o-

Sam stared out from the tree line at the ruins, feeling like there was an itch in his brain. He did another visual scan, taking more care this time, looking for the cause of the itchy sensation...A triumph fuelled, increased flare of adrenaline surged through the whole of Sam's body, leaving a tingling sensation in it's wake and making the hairs on the back of Sam's neck stand to attention when he realised with a start that he was looking directly at it.

" _Holy_ _Shit_!...Sorry... _I know where my brother is_!"

-oOo-  
Chick xx


	14. Chapter 14

_From next chap (15) I can use "spell check" again :)_

 ** _Just in case_** _, I would like to clarify that I am_ _ **not**_ _a follower of a religion.  
_ _Any and all religious ideas or beliefs expressed by any characters within  
_ _this work of fiction are purely for the purpose of and part of the story.  
_ **Chapter 14  
** -oOo-

Having entered an almost trance like state, the Succubus didn't hear the _Click_ , didn't initially feel anything. No longer aware of her surroundings, she didn't immediatly realise that all was not well. Dean's movements, along with his gasps and muted sounds of pain as he attempted, and failed, to roll, push, drag himself from under her, simply increased her arousal. She started biting, groans of pleasure accompanied her feeding, her lower half rhythmically bucked against him, she roughly shoved her hand back under his tee, her nails digging deep into him as she began raking and tearing them frantically up and down his torso, finally drawing cries of pain from him that she wrongly interpreted as his own sounds of pleasure, and when the flames dancing along the edge of one of her wings also touched the human pinned down by her, increasing his sounds of pain, she took it as a marker that he was close to reaching his climax.

-o-

The stench was a stomach churning combination of the bitter smell of burning rubber and the stink made by huge vats full of boiling glue, powerful enough to sting his eyes, stick in his throat and add sound effects to his laboured breathing consisting of long drawn out whistles and whiny squeals. It was the stink, and Dean's helpless coughing and choking that finally drew her attention and brought her back into a world of smoke, of heat, of burning, of torturous agony and on, onto frenetic attempts to beat out the flames that greedily began to spread through her wing. A terror filled noise, somewhere between human screaming and the jarring screeching of an owl, poured out of her.

-o-

The silver eyed creature fixed her gaze on the human male. Why hadn't he moved? He was in danger from the fire he himself had begun. Already he had felt the fire's fingers testing his flesh, already he battled for every shallow, ragged breath he took while being surrounded by the hot, acrid smoke that was rapidly filling up the pit. Her focus returned to the desperate, screaming creature who was flailing at her own wing. Then, fast and fluid; the silver eyed one moved out of the tunnel and entered the larger arena.

-o-

Father Hanrahan and Daniel both turned their heads to follow the direction in which Sam was staring.

"Good Lord!"

The Father continued to stare.

" _Surely_ not?"

Sam left the shelter of the trees and strode purposfully towards the stone sarcophagus while Daniel tugged at the priest's arm, trying to get the older man to move forward faster.

"Come _on_ Father! We've got to help Sam move the top off that thing."

-o-

The pair had made it half way to the sarcophagus when they, along with Sam, heard the sound of high pitched, drawn out, screeched screams coming from the inside of the stone tomb. Even muffled as it was, the sound was stomach churning. Father Hanrahan halted and crossed himself before lifting the crucifix still hanging around his neck and kissing it. Daniel's reaction was more basic. His stomach clenched and he doubled over, bile burning his throat and flooding his mouth. Spitting the vile yellow green liquid out, his mind was racing. _God help him. What kind of torture causes a man to make a sound like that? God be with him!_ Heart pounding in fear, Daniel could still hear the terrible sounds even with the Father standing nearby and loudly reciting the Lord's Prayer. For the first time that he could ever recall, Daniel felt an outpouring of anger towards Father Hanrahan and, straightening up, he glared hostilely at the Priest.

" _Father!_ Do something bloody _useful_ can't you? Instead of just standing around here _praying_! How about you help me to help Sam? Soon as you're free _obviously_!"

-o-

Daniel expected Sam to be just about going crazy, hearing such horrific screams from his own brother. However, as he drew nearer the Hunter, he was amazed at how _calm_ Sam actually appeared. On his face he wore an expression of grim determination while he inspected the stone top to the sarcophagus both visually and with his hands, looking for the best way to open it up. Daniel ran to him.

"Sam...?"

The Hunter glanced at Daniel's distraught expression and pale complexion, instantly guessing why the man looked so shaken.

"That sound? That's _not_ my brother. It's _not_ Dean. It's one of the monsters...Wouldn't be surprised to find that Dean's the _cause_ of the noise though."

Daniel didn't miss the note of pride in Sam's voice. He gazed at the thick stone slab that was the lid to the sarcophagus.

"Maybe, if we both push from the same side, we mi...

Daniel's sentence died when the stone top suddenly errupted, lifting and blasting apart as something hit it from the inside. Stone chunks and shards shot like missiles in all directions at once, clouds of dust and acrid black smoke plumed and streamed upwards from out of the ruined sarcophagus and there, in the midst of it, the cause of the explosion. He glimpsed a pale blue streak spiralling, arrow straight, into the sky. The blue was mixed with the hint of dark wings swiftly beating and following it, like a comet's tail, a blur of white, twisting and curling, surrounded by flames that were buffeted, roaring, stretched; elongated by the speed of the ascent. Through it all ran that terrible sound of pain. A large heavy weight hit Daniel, knocking him to the ground, landing on top of him and firmly pinning him down.

-o-

Daniel could hear the thuds, thunps and pattering of stones hitting the ground. The weight covering him grunted and cursed, but didn't move off Daniel until the hard rain stopped falling. With a groan, Sam rolled off the housekeeper and laid flat out on his back alongside Daniel, turning his head and looking at him worriedly.

"You ok dude?"

A weak smile formed on Daniel's face while his brown eyes searched the sky.

"Dunno. Not really sure what "Ok" _is_ any more...I _do_ know, once I've figured it, "Ok" is going to be different to how it used to be."

His gaze fixed onto an odd sort of shooting star, high in the dark sky and some way distant from the graveyard. He tracked it as it fell, burning, silent; hurtling downwards. _Please Lord, let it burn out before it hits earth_. Daniel's quick prayer triggered an influx of guilt over how he had spoken to the Father and he raised his head to look around for him, at the same time as the Father called out to Sam.

" _Sam_! You were right. He's in here. _Dean._..I saw him!"

-o-

Daniel helped Sam up off the ground, opening his mouth to speak when he saw Sam wince and he recalled Sam's groan, but Sam shook his head, speaking first.

"I'm ok. Bumps and bruises from the rock shower. Nothin' I can't handle."

Sam strode over to the priest who was was leaning over the side and peering down into what was now effectively a lidless stone box. Watching him straighten up and turn to Sam, Daniel frowned at the sight of fresh blood coming from the hairline of the Father's forehead and down, following the contours of his face and neck before soaking into the collar of his jacket. There were signs of other scratches and small, shallow cuts to his face alomg with what looked like the start of an area of bruising to one cheekbone. Daniel hurriedly crossed over to join Sam and the Father. Staring at the priest's face, he began assessing for himself whether anything needed immediate attention. He knew already that head wounds generally bleed overdramatically in relation to the size of any cuts. He just needed to keep reminding himself of that. The priest smiled patiently.

"Daniel. I'm fine. Let's worry about Dean, shall we?"

"But? I thought you were stood further back? How did you get hit in the face?"

-o-

The father broke eye contact, recalling Daniel's frustrated response to him praying. He had always understood how the sight of someone standing still in prayer during moments of need, while those all around were racing to "do," must look to others. But he wished _sometimes_ people would, for once, see things from _his_ point of view. He never thought of himself as _just standing around_ when praying. _He_ believed he _was_ taking action. He was communicating with the most powerful force that there was, and his faith told him that, small though his voice might be in comparison, he was actually being heard. The priest didn't say any of that to Daniel however.

"When the lid blew, I just ran towards it hoping to be able to spot Dean. Dumb, I know but, Sam was protecting you, so there _was_ only me free to check if he was somehow inside and visible. I _wasn't_ expecting the sarcophagus not to have a bottom! It's resting above a cave or cavern of some description. I managed to catch the briefest glimpse of Dean by the...Um...light of the flames...But I didn't have time to notice his condition I'm afraid."

Sam pointed his torch into the sarcophagus, shouting Dean's name. The beam passed over his brother initially, before Sam successfully distinguish the shape of his brother camouflaged within the debris and ooze covering both the floor of the pit and Dean himself. Neither the waiting priest or the housekeeper heard any response from Dean to Sam calling his name.

-o-

Father Hanrahan could see the anxiety on Sam's face at the lack of response from Dean, and he went to stand at the Hunter's side.

"I have some extending ladders, they might reach, they're back at the lodge."

Sam looked to the priest gratefully.

"You don't happen to have strong rope as well, do you? I need somethin' I can tie round Dean and pull him out with."

The priest nodded.

"There's what we use at church fundraisings for the tug o' war, so it's long enough and it's strong. Look, I'll stay here with Dean. Daniel? Would you go with Sam? If the rope isn't with the ladders, it's in the tall cupboard in the church kitchenette. The two of you will be far quicker than I could be."

Sam hesitated.

"I don't know. One or both of the monsters might come back to here while we're gone."

The priest hefted his iron bar in one hand.

"Yes, well. If that happens I've got backup. They'll have to get past both me _and_ God if they want to get to Dean. _Now go._ Get what you need."

Sam looked seriously at the non-weapons trained priest who was prepared to single handedly pit himself against possibly _two_ powerful supernatural creatures in an effort to protect a man he hardly knew. Sam was bowled over.

"Father Hanrahan, you're an exceptionally brave man. No offence, but I'll leave the God stuff with you. _I'd_ rather put all _my_ faith in _you_ and in your courage...We'll be as quick as we can. Dann-o? Ready?"

Daniel was staring at the priest.

"One second, that's all."

-o-

The priest had rarely seen Daniel looking so serious or so thoughtful.

"Father Hanrahan? I'm sorry for how I spoke to you and for what I said. Sam is right about you."

Surprised and touched, the priest watched the two men disappear, asking that no harm come to them. As soon as they were out of sight, he turned back to the sargophagus and continued to call down to Dean. He didn't know whether Dean was able to hear him, but non-the-less he explained to him what was happening.

-o-

Daniel moved a dusty old taup from off the metal extending ladders before lifting them and moving to pass them to Sam waiting outside the storage shed.

"Ladders, here you go. Got them?"

"Thanks...Daniel? What I said to Father Hanrahan? You know the same goes for you too, don't you? The way you've handled things, _are_ handling things, is incredible!"

"Oh, hush now. We don't want _everyone_ to know I've been "handling things", do we? _Hah_! The rope, I see it. Just a mo."

And just like that, Daniel was back on form. Sam rolled his eyes, smiling.

-o-

"Dean? Son? It's me, Father Hanrahan...If you hear me, make a sound or something...Dean? Come on my boy...We're all worried about you, especially Sam...We're going to..."

There was the whisper of silk from behind Father Hanrahan. Feeling like his heart was in his throat, he spun around and raised his hand, clutching the iron bar firmly.

" _You_!...Please, don't come any closer...I can't... _Won't..._ Simply stand by and let you take him...Do you understand? I know you've helped us, and for that I'm _truly_ grateful; but that doesn't mean you can have this man... _He doesn't belong to you._ Alright?"

-oOo-  
Chick xx


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15  
-oOo-

At some point she seemed to have lost the black lace shawl that usually covered her head and shoulders, leaving her long, blue black hair moving and flitting around her in the slight breeze almost like it was a seperate living entity. She had her head tilted to one side as the priest spoke and her silvered eyes gazed on him with something akin to mild curiosity. Hoping to emphasise his point, the priest raised the iron bar, making certain the angelic faced creature saw it. Frowning, she reached out and touched one finger tip against it, swiftly withdrawing her hand with a hiss as her skin reddened on contact, looking like it had been badly scalded.

-o-

The priest tried to recover his own reaction of surprise at the effect of iron against the creature's skin

" _Oh,_ my goodness!...Um...You _see?_ You need to stay back, this weapon has special powers. I really don't want to have to hurt you, so please, leave this place. Get away from here."

Her gaze hardened, and she glanced beyond the priest to the open sarcophagus. When she looked at Father Hanrahan again, he knew without any doubt that she had no intention of simply taking to the skies and leaving.

"Oh well. So be it...I am truly very sorry."

With an abstract cry that he hoped might make him sound at least a _little_ fearsome, or maybe serve to act as a forewarning for Sam and Daniel, the church priest rushed at the supernatural creature, holding the iron bar high in one hand and whizzing it around in circles above his head. Unflinching, the female stood her ground and with embarressing ease, first disarmed the priest by the straight forward method of knocking his weapon out of his hand with a well judged swat from a wing, and then brought his courageous attempt at an attack to an abrupt full stop.

-o-

Daniel carrying the reasonably manageable weight but cumbersome length of the ladders, and Sam hauling the much heavier coils of thick rope half looped over one shoulder and half carried in both arms, arrived at the site of the ruins a moment after the Father sounded his battle cry and committed to his charge. Sam swiftly dumped the weighty rope, hurriedly spilling it to the ground.

" _Stay_. _That's_ an _order_!"

Daniel instantly froze at Sam's sharp tone of command and watched, horrified, while Sam, sure footed, began racing towards the creature and the priest and, at the same time, extracting his gun from the waistband of his denims.

-o-

The creature's movements were so swift that there came a strange moment when the priest _knew_ he was running, he could clearly feel his legs pumping, but he wasn't getting anywhere, and he was completely baffled as to why? Sure enough, glancing down, there were his feet, madly and determindly peddling. He was astonished, however, to see his feet were attempting to run on thin air. Only then did Father Hanrahan become aware of the sensation of being gripped firmly around the tops of both his arms.

-o-

The creature grabbed hold of the Father and lifted him into the air at the same time as Sam slowed down, readying to fire. Sam held his shot, his target now blocked by the figure of the priest. It was testament to the astounding strength of the creature that she was holding Father Hanrahan up with his feet dangling roughly six inches off the ground, and was managing to do so while holding him out at arms length from herself, without displaying any signs of effort. From Sam's position, the monster's action had created a very effective shield out of Father Hanrahan, however, while the creature was blocked from Sam's view, it meant he was _also_ blocked from the creature's, and Sam smoothly edged sideways, putting the creature once more in his sights. His finger had begun to tighten on the trigger, when a further unexpected event made Sam yet again ease off and hold his fire.

-o-

In his surprise, the Father's mouth hung was hung open, and his astounded stare moved swiftly from his feet back to the female. For a couple of seconds, they both held their pose, then very slowly, the female's expression began to alter when she saw then stared at the look on the priest's face. The sound of multiple cheerful bells ringing merrily began filling the night air around the ruins. Affecting an expression of forebearance, the Father gazed at the angelic features directly in front of him, noting the numerous tiny pointed teeth that her perfect lips parted in laughter revealed.

"You may laugh, _young lady_...But _I'm_ not accustomed to the ground being snatched away while I'm still busily making use of it!"

The light hearted, tinkling bells pealed out again in response, and Father Hanrahan's own delighted laughter soon joined in with the infectious sound.

-o-

Bemused by the turn of events, Sam glanced back at Daniel. The Housekeeper's own overwhelmed expression was proof enough for Sam he wasn't alone in what he was hearing and witnessing. Hiding his gun from sight, though not entirely prepared to let go of the weapon until he was certain the creature was posing no threat, Sam cautiuosly moved closer to the priest and the supernatural being, in time to hear the priest ask to be let down.

"I wonder, my lamb, would you be so kind as to put me down? It will probably be quite helpful if my friends are able to see that I'm unharmed and perfectly safe."

Setting the priest down, the creature threw him a questioning look before her silver eyes flicked back to her original focus, the sarcophagus. Like a river bursting it's banks, recognition instantly flooded Sam's mind and he drew in a surprised gasp of air before letting it go again in a tumble of words.

" _Safe!_... _Holy shit_! Sorry. I know what she _is_! _Dammit_...This' a real first! I don't think one of her kind has ever been seen in this form by _any_ Hunter. This' _unbelievable_! I can't...Can't... _Sonovabitch_! Sorry. Father? Please, step away. We need to let her get to my brother!"

-o-

With a grateful nod to Sam, the female waisted no more time, raising her self off the ground she hovered briefly over the top of the open sarcophagus, then slowley let herself descend into the pit beneath it.

"Oh. Right. So we _don't_ actually need these fine ladders I've hauled all the way to here...Very _heroically_ I would like it known."

Still elated and beaming from his shared laughter with the creature, Father Hanrahan clapped Daniel on his back and then nudged Sam teasingly with his elbow.

"Well, Hunter? What do you say now? Admit it...I was right all along, wasn't I? I _said_ she was an Angel of the Lord. She _had_ to be, so beautiful. And good! Although, I'm still surprised by those wings of hers. Possibly I _was_ being a touch naive to expect beautiful, soft white feathers?"

Secure and happy in the belief he would soon be reunited with his brother, Sam grinned broadly, and made certain he was close enough to Daniel to catch him if necessary.

"No Father. You weren't being nieve. I can tell you that, yes, Angels _do_ actually have feathered wings."

Without breaking off from what he was saying, Sam shot out one arm in time to throw it across Daniel's shoulders and support the suddenly wobbly housekeeper.

...But, it's like _I_ said; she _isn't_ an angel...Dann-o? You gonna be ok? Or do you need to sit down for a couple of minutes?"

"Y...You...You and Dean? You've se...seen them? I mean...Actual Angels? Like, _genuine_ angelic Angels?"

"Angels yes. _Angelic_ angels? Never...We've _never_ seen one that sits around playin' on a harp."

-o-

All conversation halted when the female re-emerged out of the stinking hole carrying Dean in her arms. Then three men hurried to where she stooped to place Sam's brother on the ground. Sam knelt down at Dean's side, his chest tightening as his eyes took in the filthy, soaking, blood encrusted mess, under which was his older sibling. His eyes lingered on the patchy burns to his face, neck and shoulders. A glance at the bloody gouges down Dean's torso was all too remeniscent of another time, another place. _This_ time, however, Sam knew there was an answer, there was hope. He didn't bother to try feeling for a pulse, he could see perfectly well there was no point. Instead he looked to the creature who was closely watching Sam's reactions with apparent interest. Sam's voice came out as a harsh whisper as he quoted the words he knew she would be hoping to hear.

"Hear me Beast. Do what you have been blessed to do. I instruct you now to honour and obey that worthy command gifted to you and all of your kind."

Sam inwardly cringed at the sound of shock in Father Hanrahan's protest.

" _Samuel_! What do you think...?"

Sam didn't let the Father finish.

"Father, it's ok. I might've lost a bit in translation, but to her the words are an acknowledgement of her and a confirmation of her duty. They're known as trigger words, kinda like _Open Sesame_?"

The priest nodded his understanding, watching in thoughtful silence while the female positioned herself sideways on to Dean. Blanketing him with one wing, she lowered her face down to his.

-o-

Father Hanrahan couldn't help but feel more than a little voyeuristic, the female's positioning seeming so much more intimate and unhurried than when he had watched her quickly heal Sam. Turning, he moved away a few steps to what felt like a respectful distance and waited, keeping his eyes diverted. Daniel, however, had no such qualms and he watched in fascination, wondering if it had been the same way for him? As far as Sam was concerned, a major earthquake couldn't have dislodged him from his brother's side.

-o-

It felt like an age, but actually took only a few minutes after the creature finally pulled away from Dean for Sam to see the beginnings of small movements under his older brother's eyelids, and he breathed Dean's name in relief. A few seconds more, and Dean finally flickered his eyes open, finding himself staring up into the face of the female who was watching him carefully.

"Grotesque."

Daniel was delighted to see Dean awake, but concerned by the Hunter's assessment of the being who had saved him. He leaned in closer to Sam while staring at Dean, and whispered into Sam's right shoulder.

"Is he ok? He's not come back, you know, _wrong,_ has he? Only, _our_ Dean didn't think she's grotesque."

Sam's sudden burst of laughter acted as a compass for his brother's bemused gaze. Grinning, Sam explained to Daniel.

"A Grotesque is what she _is;_ not what Dean thinks about her... _Hey_ you...Good to see you bro'. I need to ask, do you recognise where you are?"

Lifting his head a little, Dean looked like he was working hard to focus on his surroundings.

"Uh hu."

Sam rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"Try again. Wanna tell _me_ what this place is."

Dean flashed Sam a "butter wouldn't melt" look.

"Why? You lost S'mmy?"

Sam tried for stern.

"I'm serious! Do you recognise where you are?"

Dean gave a tired sigh.

"Onna floor?... _Ok, ok_...M'in the grave yard...You're Sammy, he's Danny 'n that's Father Hanrahan..ny. An' this' Bat Girl. S'a cool name...You gonna fight more crime? S'cos she's a superhero, see?"

The Grotesque had hurriedly risen to her feet and was now staring up at the sky. With a brief close lipped smile at the small group and a further nod of her head to Sam, her wings spread and she took to the air. Ghost like against the dark prussian blue of the sky, she circled the men below once then, with her wings spread wide, she glided over the tops of the surrounding trees and quickly out of view.

Sam's gaze swept across the sky.

"Dawn will be breakin' soon...What about it Father? You think she's headin' home?"

Father Hanrahan tore his gaze away from the direction the creature had flown in, his face was flushed and his eyes wide with excitement.

"Yes. Definitely. What a marvel she is. _Truly_ wondrous! _Incred_...

"H'lo? An'body _?_ M'wet, 'n sore, n' freezin' n' stinky like a skunk. _Wanna go home too."_

-oOo-  
Chick xxx


	16. Chapter 16

_Chapter 16_  
-oOo-

By the time the group arrived back at the lodgings, Dean was far more orientated and able to make his way with only minimal support from Sam, instead of needing one person on either side as he had when they set off from the ruins. Hard though it was for Daniel to contain himself, all questions and discussions were put on hold, priority being given to getting Dean through the graveyard and back to the warmth of the lodgings. Daniel made use of the lack of conversation to consider his future. Having died once already, it seemed like a good time to evaluate his life and come to some decisions. He had no doubt what-so-ever that after his mucho macho, Cool Hand Luke performance that night, combined with his specialist skill, the brothers would be intending to ask him to join up with them and be a Hunter. Come the moment, he had decided that he would say thank you, then apologise, before politely declining. Until Father Hanrahan was whisked away and made Pope, (which Daniel was _sure_ would happen at some point), his place was right here. Without his guidance and competent care, he knew Father Hanrahan would soon fall into disrepair... _Or should that be disrepute?..._ And he couldn't _possibly_ allow that to happen. He was all that stood between the Father and...Well, _something_ , and he wasn't about to desert his post.

-o-

Once inside, Dean's eyes lit up when he saw Daniel head directly across to the coffee machine. Sam put an arm around his brothers waist and began firmly steering him out of the kitchen.

"That'll have to wait. It's a hot shower and dry clothes first. You're not only _stinky like a skunk_ Dean, you're _way_ worse. A skunk would find _you_ offensive right now!"

Daniel glanced at the muddy footprints Dean was leaving in his wake, and shrugged.

"Don't you worry handsome, I'll bring coffee in to you, and I won't even peek...Not for very long anyway."

Dean looked back just before he and Sam turned the corner and dissappeared out of sight.

"No, don't. 'Cos if you peek, you're guaranteed to fall in love with me, an' I can't commit."

Daniel's voice carried around the corner after them.

"That's a bit awkward. See, I'm _already_ madly, deeply in love with you, sweetness."

Daniel and the priest heard Dean shouting back cheerily,

"Of _course_ you are!"

-o-

"Alright. That's far enough now Samantha. I'll manage from here."

The door to the en-suite closed, leaving Sam on the outside.

"Fine. You'll let me know when you need a hand to dislodge the clothes that're glued to you with muck, mud and who knows what crap."

"No I won't."

"Suffer then, jerk."

Sam paused, waiting for his brother's rejoinder, smiling when Dean didn't let him down.

-o-

Despite, in the end, having to call on Sam for help scraping his clothes off, Dean was now a snug and happy Hunter. Dressed in sweat pants and his favourite soft, oversized hoodie of Sam's, he was comfortably settled in the sitting room at one end of the two seater couch, the heat from the fire driving the last of the cold out of his bones. He'd already had a mug of Daniel's beef drink and was now nursing the best coffee in the world, a whisky chaser sat awaiting his attention on the coffee table. Provided after he point blank refused Father Hanrahan's sherry. The biggest decision for Dean at that moment was, should he sleep first? Or stay awake and have breakfast first? He fell asleep trying to decide, gradually tipping over sideways on the couch, which is how Sam found him when he looked in on his brother after clearing the bathroom. /satisfied Dean was just sleeping, he went to join the others for a cooked breakfast.

-o-

Daniel was clutching an empty plate.

"Will our wounded soldier be joining us for breakfast?"

"Nah. He's sleeping."

Putting the clean plate away again, Daniel took a seat at the table. As soon as grace was said, Daniel's questions began, one tumbling after another. Fork half way to his mouth, Sam stared at the man, mesmerised by the rate at which the questions were pouring out of him. Father Hanrahan came to his rescue, jumping in when Daniel, at last, stopped to take a breath.

"Daniel, _please_! So many questions, it's like being stuck in a blizzard of hailstones. You'll have poor Sam grabbing his breakfast plate and running for cover soon!"

Having no answer, Daniel clamped his lips firmly closed and looked at the Father as much to say " _Will this do?"_

"An improvement certainly, but I'm curious lad, how do you intend to _eat_ now?"

Sam decided it was time to step in before things began to escalate further.

-o-

"I think I can speak _and_ eat, if that's ok with you both?"

Pointedly keeping his lips pursed for the priest's benefit, Daniel nodded.

While Sam spoke Father Hanrahan covered him by shooting warning glances at Daniel whenever the housekeeper looked like firing off another battery of questions before Sam had finished.

"Ok. First, your friend "Bluey". I told you she's what's called a Grotesque..."

Sam explained to Daniel how people generally got Gargoyles and Grotesque's mixed up.

"If it's a Gargoyle you're seein', that's a decorative over-flow for excess rainwater. A Grotesque looks like they're on buildin's purely to be just a decorative carved stone imp or whatever, _but,_ that's not the whole picture. Grotesques have a job. They can change into a winged human type form and their job, for hundreds of years now maybe way more, is to protect sacred buildin's and to keep the people usin' it safe from harm or attack. I'll have to ask Dean, but _my_ guess is it's the Grotesque who dropped him in the sarcophagus and down to the muck below. Gotta admit, he was certainly well hidden from _our_ view. Chances are, she thought Dean would be safe there from the _real_ monster, the Succubus that's been hangin' around this place. Certainly while Father Ipswich was still in residence. When Dean first saw the thing at our bedroom window, he mentioned horns, which helped identify it...Father? _That_ was your predecessor's serial killer. Which accounts for the bodies of the victims bein' in the state they were. Another thing, Succubi don't like competition, but people come from all over to see the beauty of your statue of the Virgin Mary...See where I'm goin'? The first encounter with the Grotesque was in the graveyard, and we mistook her for the Succubus, assumin' the horns were hidden by the lace covering her head. There _was_ a point where we briefly wondered whether there were two creatures, but neither Dean or me had any clear evidence. It's _you_ who provided that, Daniel."

-o-

This time, Daniel wasn't going to be stopped and he made certain the priest didn't see the sly wink he threw to Sam.

"Oh, _hey_! That was easy _peasy_! All I had to do was, you know... _Die_!

" _Daniel!_ How?...How can you make _light_ of something like that, son? When I _saw_ you...I have never, _never_ felt so _angry_ , or so upset. It was _horrible_ , truly horrible!"

-o-

Looking pale and shocked, Daniel stared at the priest.

"I didn't mean...I'm sorry...I didn't think..."

Father Hanrahan glared at the apologetic younger man.

"Didn't think what? That I give a damn? That it bothered me? That I care? Listen...I'll make it simple for you. I love you like you're my own son!...Daniel, I sacrificed my opportunity to become a biological father when I chose the priesthood. And I truly believe the Lord then blessed me in return by sending _you_ here, and I couldn't wish for a better son..."

Sam didn't hear the rest as, un-noticed by the two men, he silently left the kitchen, letting them have their privacy while he headed back to check on Dean.

-o-

Dean had obviously woken at some point as he was now stretched out on his back on the larger sofa, looking like he had deliberately lain down, instead of his top half simply falling to one side. He looked like his cheeks were burning, but whether from the heat of the fire, or something more troublesome, Sam couldn't tell. He decided to go with the warm fire theory. The remains of the clothing Dean had been wearing had been consigned to the waste. The same would have happened to his boots if Sam thought Dean would, one day, forgive him. Instead, Sam was torn between washing them himself, or making Dean do it as punishment for ignoring the plan and going off alone without telling him. Satisfied his brother was sleeping soundly, Sam made use of the relative peace to go have his own shower.

-o-

Stripping off his shirt, Sam twisted his torso one way as much as the tenderness would allow and stared at the part of his back which showed in the bathroom mirror. Given the circumstances, although he had a good number and variety of bruises from being pounded by falling debris that had once been part of the sarcophagus' stone lid, he felt he had got off relatively lightly. He was glad, he _really_ couldn't abide sherry. With a weary sigh, he stripped off the rest of his clothes and, picking up his tee again to throw the lot onto his bed, he paused, frowning at the dark stain he now spotted on the tee. Confused, he held the tee against himself, realising the blood stain had originated low on his back, in a spot that he hadn't been able to see in the mirror. Twisting in the opposite direction, he looked again, and now saw the offending injury, primarily because his twisting and turning had caused blood to begin seeping out of it again. On the surface was a tiny hole, however, the fact that it had bled enough to stain his tee and that it was bleeding again, told Sam it was a puncture wound. Although he wasn't worried, he recognised that he _did_ need someone to check it, and maybe stick a couple of stitches in it or slap a dressing over it. First though, he stepped gratefully into the shower.

-o-

Not wanting to wake Dean, Sam listened out carefully as he headed to the kitchen. To his relief, the sounds he heard were normal everyday kitchen sounds through which ran the Father and Daniel's chat; it sounded as if the priest's pot washing wasn't up to Daniel's standards.

"You forgot to rinse! You have to rinse the soap suds off glasses with plain water, or they dry cloudy and smeared, like _this_ one. See? You wouldn't want to be serving the Bishop his whiskey in _this,_ would... ! ..."

Daniel's mouth still opened and closed but no sound came out as he stared fixedly at a point somewhere behind the priest. Father Hanrahan anxiously turned to see what had managed to stun Daniel into silence.

"Um, sorry if I'm disturbin' anythin'...I...

Daniel cut in, his tone awestruck.

"You're definitely disturbing _something_!... _Sweet Sundays_. Has that been right there this whole time?"

Rapidly taking stock, Father Hanrahan swung into action. Snatching the small towel Daniel was using to dry dishes out from Daniels grasp, and striding swiftly up to the bewildered Hunter, where he quickly held the towel as best he could over Sam's pecs and abs. He frowned back over his shoulder at the wide eyed housekeeper.

"Five Hail Mary's for what you're thinking, boy! Starting _now_!"

Looking down at the towel, Sam suddenly caught on.

"Oh... ** _Oh!_**... _Daniel!_

Bright scarlet, Sam was wavering between whether to turn and run, or search out a much bigger towel. Daniel himself collapsed onto a chair, laughing so hard at the priest's comedic attempts to hide Sam's extremely well honed physique behind the little towel, that tears were soon streaming down his face.

"You're bleedin' a bit back here Sammy, I'll have to see to that...Why's the good Father tryin' to towel you down with somethin' not much bigger than a face cloth?"

Dean's misinterpretation only served to increase Daniel's gales of laughter and have him clutching at his own stomach. The Father kept his back to Daniel, hiding his own broad grin.

"I've missed somethin', haven't I?

"Dean! Thank goodness... Help? I've been _oggled_."

"Good for you bro'...Anybody else needin' coffee?"

-oOo-  
Chick xxx  
Final chapter up next :)


	17. Chapter 17

_Chapter 17  
_ _(Final Chapter & Epilogue)  
_-oOo-

In the peace and privacy of their room, Dean finished cleaning Sam's puncture wound and was in the process of packing it, smiling while he listened to Sam describe again the sound of the Grotesque's laughter, after which the younger brother fell silent. Dean mentally counted down _3...2...1...And..._

"What about you Dean? Do you remember anything? Like how you ended up in that stinkin' hole?"

Dean shrugged his shoulders as if to brush the whole experience off although, lying on his stomach on his bed, Sam wasn't able to see his brother's action. Dean had fully expected that Sam would want to hear his side, and he knew Sam would be particularly interested in why he went out alone without Sam's knowledge. Dean had already decided his brother would be getting the very edited version of the whole experience, and that he'd be bypassing _that_ part in particular. He had no inclination to admit to his little brother that he had felt jealousy towards him.

-o-

"I remember _some_ bits, like when I got to the ruins. There was no sign of anythin' supernatural, then the Grotesque came out of nowhere an' straight at me. I tried to move out of her flight path, but she was way faster than me. Things stop bein' clear from when she hit. I was already two thirds out of it when she hauled my ass into the air. Later, when I came round, I'd no clue where I was. I'd spotted what looked like the entrance to a tunnel and was tryin' to get to it when the other bitch, the Succubus, came out from the tunnel wantin' to pay a visit. I managed to stab her with my penknife, but from then on it sorta careered downhill. I gotta admit, it probably wasn't _such_ a great idea to set light to one of her wings while I was still stuck underneath her. An' that's about it really. Next thing, I'm outta the hole, conscious an' lookin' up into the face of one _very_ hot Grotesque."

-o-

Shocked, Sam craned his neck to look at his brother.

" _You_ set the succubus alight? _Damn_ _Dean_! But, _seriously_? while you were pinned _under_ her? Didn't it occur that maybe...

" _Yeah_. It did, an' I _know_. Dumb move. But it was all I'd got left Sammy...Ok, there you go. Wound's all cleaned out, packed and dressed. I suggest you put somethin' on to cover up your top half before we go back downstairs. It's a good collection of bruises you've got to go with the hole in your back bro'. Lucky the one that made this hole in you didn't hit your head or face...You _sure_ you don't want pain killers?"

Sam moved to sit on the edge of the bed and put on a fresh tee while Dean began clearing away the medi-kit.

"No, thanks. I'm fine right now...Did the Grotesque use the tunnel when _she_ came into the pit?"

Now in the bathroom, Dean rolled his eyes at himself in the mirror at Sam's need to know each and every tiny little detail. He answered as he washed his hands.

"Sam. I'd got a Succubus goin' screamin' full on _bat_ -shit, there were flames, and heat, and smoke, and the stink of bar-b-que'd poop...I couldn't see _shit_ , an' was a little distracted, focusin' on tryin' to breathe. I missed her grand entrance, probably 'cos I'd blacked out an' never came round till I was back on the surface an' she'd healed me."

He heard Sam mutter as he came back out of the bathroom.

"Sorry? What was that?"

-o-

Sam looked at him, his hazel eyed gaze intense. Dean didn't need to his younger brother to make any comment, the expression on his face said everything. Dean hitched an eyebrow.

"Right. Bad then, huh? I'm assumin' I didn't manage to score a pass in the breathin' test?"

Sam gave his older brother a tight smile.

"No. You didn't. In fact you were given an _Unclassified_ an' they made you re-sit."

Dean dropped his gaze, bowing his head.

"I'm sorry Sammy. _Really_. I'm sorry I put you through that crap again."

"No. Dean, don't. _Please_? I'm pretty sure you didn't actually invite the Succubus to join you...It wasn't really your fault."

" _Well_...I..."

Dean caught himself, but too late. Sam was now waiting for Dean to continue on from _Well I_ and explain how he thought it _might_ have been his fault. Dean knew already, no way Sam would accept a _Forget it,_ and he silently congratulated himself for being a total dumbass, and carelessly providing Sam with an in.

"Well you _what_ Dean? Headed out on your own without tellin' me by any chance? I'll be honest with you, I've wondered about that, you know? See, I thought we'd agreed a plan, so I _was_ kinda confused about what had changed?"

There was no getting out of it now. Dean remained standing and breathed out a sigh of resignation.

-o-

"Ok, _fine_...I _deliberately_ didn't mention that part but, here's the thing, I went 'cos I felt angry an' jealous over you doin' the graveyard watch. And yeah, I feel stupid, an' it sounds ridiculous now, even to _me_ but, _I_ wanted the graveyard duty. I was angry you'd chosen it. All I could think is how much I _needed_ to see her again, the Grotesque. I didn't think about anythin' or anyone else. So, in the end, people getting hurt _was_ all down to _me_...Satisfied now?"

Dean was left bemused when Sam didn't bite back. Instead, cocking his head on one side, Sam considered his older brother in silence for a while before he spoke again.

"No. You're wrong Dean. It' wasn't because of you at all."

Dean frowned, this wasn't the way he'd expected the conversation between them to go.

"How so?"

"Easy. Because, Dean, you're _not_ the person who puts people you know and care about at potential risk, just because _you_ want another look at a pretty face...I think somethin' had a hold over you to some degree or another, an' I actually think it happened when the Succubus made it's appearance at the bedroom window and saw you for the first time...We both know once you've been targeted, the first pretty face you then see, you're in love, lust, whatever. Normally, that face would be the Succubus' standing in front of you. But you're Dean Winchester, an' that makes you annoyingly awkward. The first pretty face _you_ saw, was the Grotesque's."

-o-

Sam waited while Dean quietly considered his brother's hypothesis, knowing Dean would want to check his own understanding and ensure he hadn't missed anything.

"So, in shorthand. You think I got some level of whammy at the window, fell in lust when I clapped eyes on the Grotesque, then turned jealous an' angry an' snappy with Daniel, before running away to find the Grotesque like a love sick fan girl?... _Really_ not doin' much for my he-man image right now bro'."

" _But_ , it means you can't take the blame, so I'm _good_ with you bein' a girl."

" _You're_ a girl!"

"No. _You're_ a girl, with a _crush_...Deenie's in lerve!"

" _Out_!...Now!"

-o-

In the kitchen, the back door to the garden was ajar. The priest and the housekeeper walked back indoors from the garden side, only a couple of steps ahead of Sam and Dean making their way from their room. On seeing Dean, Daniel hesitated before smiling at him.

"Dean. How does bacon and egg on a bun sound to you?"

Dean grinned.

"Make it two an' it sounds just about perfect."

Daniel winked at Sam as the younger Hunter passed him en route to the coffee machine.

"Nice tee."

"Thanks... _This_ one's stayin' on."

Father Hanrahan waited until the two Hunters sat themselves down with a coffee.

"Morning both...Daniel and I have been talking about everything that's happened, obviously, and what Sam's already told us. We wanted to ask, was it our friend, or the _other_ creature who put you in that place Dean?"

" _I'm_ pretty sure it was the Grotesque, but I don't think she meant any harm, that's not their way."

The priest glanced at Daniel before continuing.

"No...Daniel and I think she was...Um...Doing what Daniel had asked of her...Daniel? Maybe you should explain?"

Staying by the cooker, Daniel gave both Dean and Sam a sheepish look.

"It's like this, what you said they were here to do Sam? Keep things safe? Well, I...Um...Look, I think I might've sort of asked her to keep Dean safe."

-o-

Seeing the bewildered expression on the Hunters' faces, Daniel took a deep breath and raced through his explanation.

"Only, I didn't know about her did I so I couldn't've known I was talking to _her_ an' it was her who was listening when I asked it 'cos see _I_ thought I was asking my guardian angel but turns out it was more probably her and I'm pretty sure that's why she went and dumped you in that awful hole to keep you safe, like I'd asked. I've always titivated her an...Oh no!... _Sam_?...Are you alright?"

Sam nodded while choking and wiping at the coffee he had managed to snort down himself at Daniel's disclosure of having _titivated_ a Grotesque. Seeing the coffee down Sam's front, Daniel threw both arms into the air in feigned horror.

" _Oh dear_ , look at that! All down your nice clean tee... _Quick_! It's a washing _crisis!_ Whip it off!...No hesitating now...Here...Let me help...

Dean held up a hand, managing to beg _Stop_ in between his laughter at the gleeful and hopeful looking housekeeper, who seemed for all the world like he was about to try stripping his brother at the breakfast table. Daniel gave Dean his best wide eyed look of innocence.

" _What_? I'm only thinking about the staining!... _Oh_ , alright, he can keep his top on I suppose...Your breakfast's about ready anyway."

Father Hanrahan raised his eyes to Heaven.

-o-

" _Gentlemen_!...What Daniel is attempting to say is that he thinks it's _his_ fault you ended up in that pit Dean. Before we, er, lost you, he'd asked what he hoped was a guardian angel to keep you safe. And it appears we're all of the same view that keeping Dean safe _was_ her intent when she chose to hide you. Daniel _also_ thinks the hand that offered him comfort in this very kitchen was our friend. Sam? Dean? Back at the ruins, watching our friend leave, I realised I knew exactly where it was she was heading...Daniel and I have just been to give our thanks to what we'd previously thought was just an odd, frankly rather ugly, sort of garden gnome.

Sam and Dean glanced at one another, both having made the same connection. Dean spoke on their behalf, giving Sam chance to regain control of his voice after his choking fit.

"The Grotesque is in the _garden_?"

"Hence being thought of as a garden ornament. One that Daniel has always included and maintained as part of his garden duties. Things like keeping her clear of moss and debris, not letting her get overgrown, and such. Anyway, that led us to wonder, might she have answered Daniel's plea, and then later chosen to intervene when Daniel...When she saved his life, in return for his care of _her_?"

"Sammy? Any thoughts?"

"Yeah...Um...Well, I've never read anythin' to say a Grotesque _wouldn't_ appreciate someone who, _titivates_? them. That said, usually these things are positioned somewhere too high for...

Sam sniggered before he could stop himself, earning a swift ankle kick under the table from Dean.

...Sorry...Titivation."

Dean gazed deadpan at his still smirking brother.

"What are you? Five? Dann-o, I think she likes you, ok? She's also been protecting the garden, and as much as she can, this lodge."

-o-

Father Hanrahan nodded his agreement.

"Don't take this the wrong way but, until you joined us? There's never been any disruption actually _within_ the lodge, though it never occurred to me to wonder why. What makes you so sure the garden's safe?"

Having managed at last to pull himself together, Sam answered.

"Remember when I came in freezing?... _Hell_ , was that _really_ only yesterday?...Anyway, I realised it stopped getting worse soon as I got to the garden. I told Dean an' we both wondered, was there a protective plant of some sort growin' there? We never have thought about a Garden Grotesque!"

Father Hanrahan grinned,

"If you like _that,_ then you'll _really_ like this...The gnome, goblin, whatever, was put there by Father Ipswich, shortly before he died. And, to be honest, that's the only reason I kept it. Do you think Father Ipswich knew what it was when he brought it here?"

-o-

Sam frowned as he considered the priest's question, eventually answering him in a more serious tone.

"Maybe he didn't know what was disruptin' the place or killing those people, but I say we should assume he _did_ know about Grotesques...You know, upstairs Dean tried takin' the blame for us all gettin' hurt. He can be stupid like that...What if Father Ipswich started to mistakenly believe _he_ was to blame for the evil bein' here? It started up durin' his tenancy, an' _you_ told us he was never offered a move. I know that depression can cause people to start thinkin' more an' more negatively about themselves...Father Hanrahan?...Could your predecessor have killed himself because he believed his _death_ would rid the place of evil?"

For a moment, Father Hanrahan only stared at the younger Hunter then, shoving his chair away from the table, he stood up and began to pace back and forth, completely ignoring the other three men. Daniel watched anxiously for a short time, until he couldn't hold his concern in any longer.

"Father Hanrahan?... _Pops_?...Are you alright?...Tell me what I can do to help."

The priest at last stopped pacing at the sound of Daniel's worried voice, turning to look at the three men, the tears in his eyes were evident to all, his expression, however, appeared to be one of hope.

-o-

"If...If what you suggested were _true_ Sam. _If_ it were true, then Father Ipswich's death might not be so easily be called suicide...If he truly believed that to end the evil and save others from harm, _he_ had to die, then, wasn't that self sacrifice? And surely, even the good Pope _himself_ cannot pronounce sacrificing oneself for the greater good a sin, _can_ he? Not when our own sweet Lord remained in the garden, knowing that to do so would ultimately be the death of him? He was afraid, but He didn't run, He sacrificed himself, as His Father wanted, for the greater good...Oh, Heavens, this is big my friends. Especially for Father Ipswich, bless him, this is _huge_!"

Dean checked his understanding of where the priest's thoughts were leading, and the possible implications.

"Father? Assumin' that _is_ what really happened, which I gotta say makes more sense to _me_ than the man abandonin' a lifetime of beliefs...Are you sayin' it might change the previous rulin'? I mean, could the guy's remains be moved an' re-buried in consecrated ground?"

-o-

Father Hanrahan's gaze moved from Dean to Sam, on to Daniel who smiled at him. The priest didn't acknowledge Daniel's smile. Instead his gaze drifted over to the window with it's view of the garden and fixed on a tree ladened with white blossom that had, somehow, managed to last through the torrential rain and high winds that accompanied the arrival of the two Hunters. In his minds eye he pictured the other side of the trees trunk where, at it's base, there sat an odd and really quite ugly stone carving of an imp like creature, put there by his predecessor. His thoughts were centred on Daniel. _What would I do_ _for the young man I think of as a son? How far might I go? If I was certain it would save him, would I willingly sacrifice myself, take my own life to save his?_

-o-

Daniel was worried. _What's he doing? Why's he not saying anything? What if he's nodded off, with his eyes open? Crikey! I'd better wake him and save him from the embarrassment of starting to snore!_

"Pops?"

"Yes."

With that one word, Father Hanrahan answered both Daniel, and himself. Slowly, a small smile appeared on his lips. His voice was barely above a whisper as he finally answered Dean.

"Actually, the truth is, Father Ipswich is _already_ buried in consecrated ground."

Dean flashed a small smile and nodded his approval.

" _Way to go_ , Father Hanrahan."

Sam partially raised a hand in the air.

"I'll second that."

Baffled, Daniel frowned.

" _No_ , wait. You've got it all wrong. Don't you remember Pops? When I first came to work for you? You told me about him, including that the church refused to give you and another priest permission to move him. So, unless you...went ahead... _Oh!..._ You _didn't?_...Did you?...You _did_!... _Where_ did...? Oh, hang on...You...? No _way_!... _Here_?"

Father Hanrahan said nothing, merely tapped the side of his nose with a forefinger and gave his unofficially adopted son a broad wink.

-oOo-

 **EPILOGUE  
** _(Followed by some of my own favourite "Daniel Moments")  
_ _-oOo-_

Early that evening, dressed in a scruffy, borrowed coverall, Dean stood alongside the priest in the graveyard. Both were gazing at a hole in the ground that they had found concealed within the floor length curtain of branches belonging to an ancient holly bush, so old it was big enough to qualify as a holly tree.

"Well Father? Now we've I.D.'d the tunnel, what's the plan?"

"There _is_ only one sensible solution, it has to be made safe. All of it. Starting with arranging for the tunnel to be collapsed, then look at getting the rest filled in somehow. I want to ensure nobody finds themselves trapped down inside that dreadful pit again. For now, I don't know about you, my son, but _I'm_ ready to head back indoors. In case you'd forgotten? We left your poor brother alone with Daniel."

Dean chuckled at that.

"You're right. Vamps, ghosts, shape-shifters an' a boat load of other fuglies; Sammy can handle. But _,_ defendin' himself against Dann-o without backup? We'd better move it."

-o-

Once again Daniel stayed over for the night, commandeering the larger couch. Now, early the following morning, he was already busy in the kitchen, getting prepared to conjure up a cooked breakfast. The table was neatly set for four, the coffee was on the go and a small vase of flowers he had picked from the garden sat in the middle of the table. Father Hanrahan had gone to put a notice on the church doors to let people know it was opening again in time for the evening service that same day. That done, he turned and walked the length of the central aisle, his footsteps tip-tapping on it's polished stone flags, some of which had been rescued from the wreck of the original church when the current one was built. He came to a stand-still in front of "his" statue of the Virgin Mary and gazed up at her.

"Well my dear, we'll shortly be back to normal, doing what we're here to do for the good people of the area, and I'm certain you will soon be receiving visitors again. Things won't be entirely the same, of course. I have the feeling that's not unusual after one has had one's life touched by those two Winchester boys. They're very special young men, but then, you'll know that already. The things they've witnessed, their experiences...The friends they appear to keep...I pray our Lord will keep them safe and I thank God for them and for all those Hunters He chooses as His army in the battle against the supernatural creatures walking amongst us. Those two truly do walk with Angels.

-o-

Turning to look at Sam and Dean as they wandered into the kitchen, Daniel's eyes were drawn to the kit bags they carried. He turned away again quickly, his voice sounding somehow over cheerful, forced.

"All packed then? Good. Hope that's everything? I'd hate to trip over a forgotten sword or something. You'd only have to come back for it. Have a seat. I'll be as quick as I can with breakfast, then we can be rid of you."

Glancing at each other, Dean grabbed Sam's bag out of his brother's hand and nodded his head towards Daniel.

"I'll erm, just take our stuff out to the car. You stay Sam, don't need the both of us."

Ignoring the look Sam shot at him, Dean made a swift exit. Sam cleared his throat as he sat down.

"So, um, guess it's back to normal then once we're gone?"

Daniel kept his back to Sam when he answered.

"Guess so. Oh, apart from I'm going to be a live-in house keeper."

"That's great...You'll be alright, you and Father Hanrahan."

"I know."

For some time, there was silence between them. Sam cleared his throat again.

"Um, these're pretty flowers. Are they from the garden"

"Yes."

Sam sighed, this was getting more awkward by the second. He tried again.

"You know, Daniel? Dean an' me, we er, we can ring you sometime, see how you're both doin', if you'd like I mean?"

-o-

Daniel had stopped moving at Sam's words when Dean returned. Pausing in the doorway, he glanced from Daniel to Sam. His brother raised both eyebrows, giving Dean a look that shouted _Help_! as Daniel spoke.

"Y...Yes, ring, that would be nice."

Dean could taste the discomfort, and the sadness. He stepped up.

" _Oh_ for chri...! _Daniel_. You leave that and turn around. _Now_!"

Father Hanrahan hesitated on his way back into the kitchen, confused by the sound of command in Dean's voice. He watched as Daniel, a miserable expression on his face, obeyed. The miserable look was wiped instantly the moment Dean pulled the man into a bear hug.

"We'll miss you too, Dann-o. And phone calls work both ways, got that? _Friends_ keep in touch, ok?"

Grinning, Daniel nodded into Dean's shoulder. Untangling the housekeeper, Dean turned to Sam.

"Well Sammy? This guy needs a hug, 'cos he's gonna miss us. Get your ass over here an' make him happy, then I'll help with breakfast. I'm _starvin_ '! I could _easy_ manage five loaves an' two fish all to myself!"

-o-

For the rest of that morning until the Winchester brothers climbed into the Impala and pointed her towards home, the sound of laughter and lively voices filled the lodge and drifted through the garden. Beneath the tree whose branches were ladened with white blossom, sat a fairly ugly imp like creature, hand carved out of solid stone. The sounds of the humans made no impression on her stone ears, her stone eyes were blind to the garden surrounding her, but, should evil come again, a beautiful woman with the wings of a bat and wearing an ethereal smoky blue dress might be glimpsed by those who know about her, as she sets out to keep her home and family safe.

 **FIN  
** -oOo-  
Chick xxxx

 _My own favourite Daniel Moments_ :

D. "Am I the second coming?"  
Father H. "Good Heavens! I do hope not.."

D. "Aren't there monster rules...Like that Jehova Convention?"  
Father H. "I think son, you mean the Geneva Convention."

D. (To Father H.) "Wonder what sound a drop kicked dodo would make?"

D. (To S.) "You're definitely disturbing _something_..."

THANK YOU FOR READING :)


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